The Game of Life
by MLaw
Summary: A fic for Older Not Dead Promptathon : What would Gibbs do? Originally posted on Live Journal but only chapter 1. I decided to extend it after getting multiple requests to do so. Story summary in a nutshell: Ducky Mallard finds love, or so he thinks. Following another failed love interest, Ducky goes home to Scotland for a trip down memory lane. Mild Het
1. Chapter 1

Ducky Mallard looked at himself, standing there in front of the mirror stripped down to his boxers. He wasn't that happy with what he saw, being a bit overweight.

"Not the lithe figure of old, my dear fellow," he quietly said to himself.

The problem with his knee made it near impossible to exercise on the treadmill, or simply ride a bicycle for that matter and after another glance he was more forgiving, considering how old he was.

However, the lovely woman that lay in his bed at the moment must have liked what she saw. In spite of his misgivings after his bad experience with Mary, he continued his on-line pursuit of finding a companion via the dating site and had at last met a lovely woman...who wasn't crazy.

At first he kept it very casual, platonic even, not wanting to get too close too fast. No not after last time when he had let himself become smitten by that delusional woman. This time, he made a point of only telling Jethro, since Abigail had not seen fit to keep his confidence.

Katherine, the very woman in his bed at the moment seemed to be all he hoped for in a woman; intelligent, amiable and inquisitive and she was not hard on the old bespectacled eyes either. She was perhaps ten years or so younger than he, but didn't know for sure as age was something one did not ask of a lady, especially one with long dark shining hair and deep brown, limpid eyes.

They had been seeing each other regularly for many months, and tonight was the night their relationship would be taken to this new level of intimacy.

The bedroom, filled with the remnants of antique furniture that he kept from the sale of the house after mother had died were a bit cramped as he'd not quite gotten around to rearranging his environment to suit him. NCIS had kept him busy as of late with the victims of a serial killer filling his morgue.

He stepped closer to the bed, giving her his crooked little smile. It had been some time since he'd been intimate with a woman, but like riding a bicycle one has to just get back on and remember. He thought a little poetry might be in order and he quoted a lovely stanza to her, lowering his voice an octave.

"_She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright meets in her aspect and her eyes."_

"Ducky, I can't believe what a romantic you are?" Katherine crooned, her voice soft and alluring.

"A lovely gourmet candlelight dinner, and now scented candles and rose petals scattered on the bed and Lord Byron. Where have you been all my life?" She patted the mattress, inviting him to slip beneath the sheets with her.

"I could say the same of you my dear," he whispered, easing himself in beside her, taking her in his arms and kissing her ever so slowly.' The time for talk was over.

Katherine moaned as his hands roamed along her body, tenderly...skillfully like a long time lover, as he seemed to know just the right places to touch and kiss.

Finally the moment arrived and they made love together, with both of them moving slowly and ever so sensually as they explored each other's bodies.

When they were momentarily sated, Katherine played with the hair on Ducky's chest, twirling it in her fingers as they lay together in the afterglow of their moaning and thrustings.

She whispered to him. "Donald, I have something important to tell you."

"Not that you are pregnant, my dear. I'm sure of that, he teased.

"Oh you are terrible Donald but no, I wish it were glorious news such as that, but you know very well I'm beyond childbearing years."

"What is it that you need to tell me my darling?"

"I'm leaving the country next week. My company has transferred me to Paris. It's a significant promotion and I'll be gone for at least two years...not that I can't come back for a visit now and then."

"Oh," his voice sank, " Congratulations, I'm sure you'll do a fine job."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you."

"Do not fret, I'm used the impermanence of life."

She sensed his now somber mood. "Do you want me to go?"

"Perhaps that might be best,..you won't mind if I don't show you out."

"I understand Donald." She leaned forward, giving him a peck on the forehead.

"I'd really liked to stay in touch with you... friends, you know?"

"Yes friends I understand, now if you don't mind?I am a bit tired and I have a busy day ahead of me talking to dead people."

.

Gibbs walked into autopsy, expecting to see his friend Ducky hard at work carving away the the Navy Lieutenant murdered by the unidentified serial killer. Instead Dr. Mallard was sitting in the shadows with his head bowed.

"What's wrong Duck?"

When Ducky lifted his head, Gibbs could see a glass of scotch on the desk. "A little early for that, even for me, isn't it?"

"I suppose you're right Jethro, but I am feeling quite forlorn today. Though alcohol is really a depressant, so it's not the wisest of choices when feeling down."

"Okay Duck, spill the beans. What's got you down?"

"It's Katherine."

Gibbs gave his usual shrug. "Don't tell me, not again?"

"Yes, sadly when we had just taken our relationship to a new level of ...shall we say, intimacy; she informs me she's being transferred to Paris for two years and wants to remain 'friends.'

"Jeeze, sorry Duck. Hey, I haven't exactly had luck with women myself either."

Ducky looked at him closely. "What about the Colonel...Jethro, you ran away from that one. So what would you do in my sort of situation.

Gibbs picked up the glass of scotch, and walking to the sink; he poured it down the drain.

"Well you know what Duck, I had my reasons. I think asking what would Gibbs do, isn't a good idea. You just keep looking Donald Mallard, there's someone out there for you, and she might just turn up when you least expect her.

"Thank you for the advice Jethro...now if you'll excuse me, I have a corpse to talk to."


	2. Chapter 2

Life for Dr. Mallard went on as it always had, with the never ending deliveries of new bodies to autopsy. It was albeit a gruesome job at times, but he put that aside. There were murders to solve and mysteries of the body to unravel.

He'd heard from Katherine as soon as she'd arrived in Paris, and he could sense her excitement in her e-mails. He of course, answered them out of courtesy, while still trying to mend his somewhat broken heart.

She asked him about using Skype to speak to each other more directly, but he refused. Seeing her face would only add to his misery.

Jimmy Palmer tiptoed past him as if walking on eggshells; Ducky knew he'd been rather short, and intemperate with the poor fellow as of late and that had to stop.

Perhaps, Ducky thought, it was time take some of his much accrued vacation time, and get away from the bodies and NCIS for a while. Jimmy Palmer was more than ready to solo.

The question was, where to go? He'd seen a good part of Europe in his younger days when traveling on a Eurail pass, though he was sure there were many changes there, still, Europe was Europe.

Being a Scotsman, he was not inclined to favor warmer climates. That was when he hit on it, he would go home to Scotland, and visit what family remained there.

That night, when leaving, he placed his request for a month off on the desk in front of Jethro.

"What's this all about Duck?" Gibbs held the form out at arm's length, squinting at it, rather than reach for his reading glasses. He didn't like wearing them, as they were to him, a sign of his aging. There'd have to come a time when he'd have to look into really retiring, and not like what he'd done, going off to hang with Mike Franks down in Mexico. He did that because he was pissed off. He'd had his fun there with Franks, but was relieved when he had a reason to come back to NCIS.

"Jethro," Ducky paused, gathering his thoughts. "I need to get away from everything for a bit. This disaster with Katherine is still bothering me very much, and I realize, though talking to the dead everyday can be quite revealing...I need to stop the conversations, and perhaps talk more to the living. I'm thinking of going home to Scotland to see what remaining family I have there."

"Really? I didn't think you had any family left after your mother passed."

"You've forgotten, I have a sibling and nephew in Baltimore. Though we seem to have drifted apart. And there are a few lunatic uncles and some cousins of course and old friends I haven't seen in years back in Scotland. I was always fond of my cousin Fidelma and I'd like to see her again. We are both getting on in years, and better to see her again...well before it's too late. I assure you, Mr. Palmer will have things well in hand while I'm gone."

"Okay Duck," Jethro signed off on the request. "Take as much time as you need to get your head on straight...and stay in touch will ya?"

"Most certainly, and thank you Jethro." Ducky doffed his hat and headed for the elevator, stil looking a little pensive.

Tony walked over from his desk, being his ever nosy self. "Something up with the Duck-meister, Boss. He looked a little preoccupied. He having lady problems again."

"And _why _would you say that Dinozzo?"

"Well, ugh, not that I would know about those things, but ahh, he just looked like he wasn't happy."

"You know DiNozzo, sometimes ya need to just keep your nose out of other peoples business...now don't you have work you should be doing?"

"Yeah, Boss, sorry." Tony retreated to his desk, under the watchful eyes of Ziva and McGee.

Quitting time for the team arrived, and Tony, McGee and Ziva deciding to stop off at the local watering hole for some drinks. They'd in invited Abby to join them, and she told them she'd be there as soon as she wrapped up a final test she was running on the mass spec.

A half hour later, she walked through the tavern door with Palmer beside her, and pulled up a bar stool with the others.

Tony didn't dislike Jimmy, but sometimes because of his awkwardness and tendency to utter so many inappropriate things; he felt that he didn't quite fit in with them, though he knew Palmer desperately wanted to.

"So, Jimmy...what's going on with Ducky. I hear he put in for an extended vacation?" Tony asked, as he sipped his beer.

"Yes he did." Palmer answered suspiciously.

"So what gives, why's Ducky abandoning the duck pond?"

"Umm, he sort of told me he needs to get away from things for a bit."

"Get away? Ducky loves his work and us, " Abby interjected excitedly. "Why would he want to get awya from us...and not even say goodbye? Why would he do that? Is there something you're not telling us...he's not hiding being sick like Director Shepard did, is he?

"Abby, calm down," Ziva said, "I'm sure Dr. Mallard has his...reasons."

"So what are those reasons Palmer?" Tony continued to probe.

"I'd rather not say." Jimmy answered sheepishly.

"Was it because of a woman?" Tony zinged that one out, catching Palmer off guard.

"Yes...yes it was, " Jimmy blurted out.

"Oh really?" Tony smiled. "What woman is that? The last one I remember was scary Mary, and that didn't turn out too well did it?"

Jimmy leaned in, looking like he was going to reveal a state secret. "Dr. Mallard was seeing woman, another one he'd met online. I overheard him speaking to her and he seemed quite happy, but something happened recently...I think they broke up."

"Wow, Ducky was seeing someone and we didn't know about _that._" Tony said, " And how did that happen Mc Fumbles? And you Abby, I thought you and Ducky talked a lot. Come on now people, I depend upon you for our office dirt."

"How am I supposed to know Tony, I'm not Ducky's keeper." McGee protested, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"I think Ducky was a little mad at me for blabbing about Mary to you guys, " Abby winced.

"And I think that Dr. Mallard's personal business is none of our affair Tony, and you should just leave him be. If he'd wanted us to know, he would have said something." Ziva chided.

.

Ducky made his flight reservations online. He would arrive at Heathrow Airport in England and travel by train to Scotland. There were a number of places he planned to visit, Edinburgh Medical College for one, to see some old colleagues. Then off to the mainland near the Isle of Skye, where he once had a private practice, there to see the family who still lived nearby. Great Uncle William and Aunt Gertrude had long since passed and at least Fidelma had not inherited any of her mother's eccentricities. His other cousins, Argyle and Ewan lived their bachelor lives on a farm up the coast.

Thinking about his family, he wondered about mother's dementia and some of his relation's somewhat odd behaviour over the years. Might his incessant talking to the dead be due to his genetics...or was it, perhaps, just loneliness?

He'd met and been with a fair amount of women in his lifetime, mostly brief flings for the sex and there was his one illicit romance with...well that was one he did regret, feeling shame at becoming involved with a married woman, even though he detested her husband, and the husband hated him.

Donald Mallard never really gave marriage a thought until it really became too late. He'd been so busy following his many interests, that the idea of marriage just seemed to fall between the cracks. He loved children, but never gave himself the time to think about having any.

Ducky carefully packed his suitcase, tucking away a supply of bow ties and braces along with apparel appropriate to where he would be visiting. He'd need, no doubt, his blazer with the Edinburgh College insignia on the left breast, as well as a suit or two for when visiting his alma mater. He'd heard that one of his professors, though long retired, was still alive and living in quarters on campus, thinking the fellow was a bit of drip back in the day... and then it dawned on him.

"Mustn't forget a Mac old boy, corduroys and a pair of wellies," Ducky reminded himself with a smile, as he no doubt would be mucking about on his cousins farm."

He began humming the melody to "Scotland the Brave" to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not one for discussing his personal affairs with anyone, with perhaps, the exception of Ducky Mallard. They'd known each other for over ten years and had become good friends...not the hanging out together type, but friends that could talk when it was important.

Tobias Fornell had become his buddy, over the most unlikely thing, and that was having and ex-wife in common. At first it was uncomfortable, and somewhat contentious, but then it became a connection, a common ground. The man was okay in Gibbs' book, but he wasn't someone he could talk to about private matters, he was the hanging out kind.

Ducky always showed his concern for his friend Jethro, watching out for him at times like an doting Uncle...Ducky had even introduced him to one of his future ex-wives but Gibbs didn't hold that against him.

He'd dropped the ball a few times with Duck, hurting him by not telling him about Shannon and Kelly, then quitting NCIS and heading off to Mexico to join Mike Franks without even saying goodbye.

Even though he'd been a real bastard, that fact he and at times Ducky were quick to point out; Ducky finally forgave him his transgressions having given him the cold shoulder and plenty of digs for months after his return to NCIS.

It was the one time Gibbs apologized. Ducky challenged him on that, reminding him that it was a sign of weakness according to own rules.

"Not among friends," he said back, and he meant it, they were indeed friends.

Jethro remembered the first time he'd met him, back in France, around 1990, and smiled at the vision of an angry Ducky pushing a French policeman off a 60-foot cliff into a lake below because he'd, as Ducky put it, "sullied a crime scene." Gibbs knew right then he liked the man... a lot. And that was rare for him, as he was never quick to make friends.

His mind flashed to memories of Jenny Shepard, his partner then, and he shook his head, trying to drive thoughts of her away. Her death still tore at him, and supposed it always would. Life was so unfair, her getting sick...but at least she left this world on her own terms; she was stubborn that way.

.

Gibbs sat now alone in the darkened squad room, staring at Ducky's request for time off and wondered if he hadn't been required to submit the request directly to him; would the good doctor have just disappeared the way as he'd done when he took off for Mexico, not a word...no goodbyes?

He supposed Ducky had sort of done that, since he hadn't say a word to Ziva, Mc Gee or Di Nozzo on the way out the door. Abby and Palmer said nothing about his going away when they left tonight as well, so he suspected they hadn't clued in either.

Gibbs wished he was better at talking sometimes; Ducky was troubled about something else besides his girlfriend dumping him, and wanting to take a break from talking to dead people...he just wished he could have asked Ducky outright, but he just couldn't open his mouth.

He could get the best of someone in interrogation, dancing around them with carefully chosen words and innuendo, but he couldn't find the right ones to say to Ducky...his one real friend.

Not even Mike Franks fit that bill. They were friends, but he'd always be Gibb's mentor and not just a friend. Mike did most of he talking but at times the sum total of their conversations, especially down in Mexico had been single sentences thrown out here and there, and just reminiscing about the old days over _mucho cervezas_.

The telephone suddenly rang, calling the agent from his thoughts.

"Gibbs," he answered promptly.

"Jethro." The familiar voice spoke with just a hint of a Scottish burr.

"Duck? I thought you'd be...well getting ready for your trip."

"I am, all the packing is done, with no fuss or muss. You know I'm an organized person...having been in the military taught me that. My flight leaves at eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Yeah," Gibbs laughed, that didn't quite rub off on me." You need a lift to the airport?"

"Yes Jethro, I know... I've been to your home." Ducky snickered."And no, but thank you for the offer, a taxi will suffice."

"So what's up, what can I do you for?"

Ducky hesitated, choosing his words. "Jethro, I just wanted to say thank you for being my friend and tolerating my, shall we say, eccentricities all these years. I suppose my constant blatherings and ramblings can get the best of anyone and try their patience. I realize that I forget myself at times, it comes from talking to people don't answer me back, verbally that is...there was a time when I wasn't ... "

"Duck, you okay?" Gibbs, interrupted, finally asking the question that was eating at him. "You're not lying to me about not being sick...not going off to die on me are you?"

Ducky laughed out loud at that one. "I'm sorry, I'm not making light of your concerns."I'm fine Jethro. I'm just taking stock that's all."

"You _are_ planning to come back aren't you?"

Ducky got the drift of that. "Nooo, I'm not pulling a '_Gibbs'_ if that's what you're alluding to my friend."

"A Gibbs?" Jethro laughed, and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess what I did could be called that."

"I just wanted to ask you to please do me a favor and apologize to everyone for not telling them of my trip and saying goodbye to them. That was rather inconsiderate of me."

"Okay Duck, I'll pass it along. You take care now...g' night."

"Good night Jethro."

_Click_

Gibbs turned off the computer monitors at his desk, retrieved his Sig from the drawer, clipping it to his belt as he closed up shop for the night.

He looked at his wristwatch; it was late and he was hungry but suddenly remembered there was nothing home in the fridge, and decided to eat out. He did didn't feel like eating Chinese take out and thought of the best place to get some chow this time of night, that was quiet and not a fancy restaurant.

It was a short ride to his favorite diner, just under the beltway overpass. Like so many others, it was a well kept secret to truck drivers and locals. The people who frequented it were more the down to earth kind. No pretentious sons of bitches that filled the D.C. area, these were just regular people.

"Hiya honey," the waitress greeted him as he sat down in one of the booths, "You're a little late for your morning coffee aren't you."

Gibbs smiled back at her. "Yeah, Ruby you could say that. I'm a little off schedule and have and empty fridge at home... I think I'll have some meat loaf and apple pie with that coffee if you don't mind."

"Sure sugar, coming right up."

.

Ducky Mallard was restless and tossed and turned in his bed. His home was so quiet at times that it was unnerving, but he supposed that the absence of the clickty click click of the Corgis nails on the hardwood floors he'd been so accustomed to for years, created a deafening silence.

He no longer awoke to four sets of eyes staring at him first thing in the morning, nor the need to walk the beasts and feed them, though mother doted on them terribly. They usually slept on the floor surrounding her as she slept downstairs on the chaise; her fierce little watch dogs to the end. They were very upset when mother was moved to the nursing home and followed him everywhere like annoying little flies.

He didn't want to admit it, but in spite of their annoying ways, he missed the damn dogs, even the nippy one Tyson. He missed a lot of things, mother of course, their beautiful home in Reston, which was more what he'd been accustomed to all his life, but still the historical brownstone he lived in now in Georgetown suited his purposes well enough.

He was torn about selling the antebellum house, as it held so many memories, but it was simply too much space for a single man, and too much to to fuss over at his age.

There was less to take care of in his new home, though having had to get rid of so many treasured antique pieces nearly broke his heart. He looked around his disorganized bedroom, vowing to make it more _feng shui, _when he returned from his trip.

He glanced at the other side of his large bed, envisioning Katherine there, and sighed. This was going to be an uphill battle to get over her.

Ducky rolled over onto his side, clearing his mind and forcing himself to go to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Ducky Mallards Virgin Atlantic flight had been uneventful and landed at Heathrow Airport on time. He changed his mind about taking the train to Edinburgh and had prearranged a car rental for himself, for some reason feeling rather adventuresome; he decided to rent an Aston Martin V8 Vantage Roadster. It cost a pretty penny, but he didn't care.

Though his Morgan was his love and quite sporty, the idea of driving an Aston Martin like the fictional James Bond had tickled him and he felt he would get a much better view of the countryside via a car rather than riding on a bumpy train. If he felt like stopping, he could do so at his leisure.

He picked up the car at the rental terminal with one if the employees driving it up curbside, handing him the keys, but looking at him oddly then looking at the car, a sleek silver convertible with all the latest gadgets and amenities, then looking back at him again.

"A little old for this aren't you mate?" He snickered under his breath.

"I may be old, but I'm not dead," Ducky snapped at him as he snatched the keys. He tossed his suitcase along with his laptop into the passenger side, and nestled into the cushy leather drivers seat. He put the the stick shift in gear and floored it; leaving the smell of burning rubber and exhaust in the young man's face.

"That'll show you." He chuckled as he drove from the Airport heading to the University of Edinburgh, taking M1 to avoid the crowded cities of Liverpool and Manchester and giving him a more scenic route up through Nottingham and Sheffield. He planned out his route off the cuff, with a fuel and loo stop at a motorway service station in Watford Gap, then another more proper break in Nottingham, to stretch his legs and perhaps get some coffee and a light snack to hold him over until he reached Sheffield. There he planned to eat his larger meal of the day.

The car had a GPS so there was no worry of getting lost, and though the traffic was a little busy, he knew he would enjoy the drive. It would take nearly seven hours if he went straight through, but there was no rush, if he felt inclined to go off the beaten track a bit and smell the roses, then he would do so.

It had been a long time since he'd been in England, and no doubt some things had changed, but no matter. He'd always had a sense of adventure and that's what he'd decided this trip was to be. Maybe it was a last fling of sorts, seeing family members and old friends before it was too late and the grim reaper caught up to them. Not that he had any intention of dying himself any time soon, but Ducky knew the best of intentions had nothing to do with it...when it was your time it was your time.

He'd forget his sorrows about Katherine, and would just let his hair down, have a jolly good outing and get everything out of his system before going back to NCIS.

Once leaving Edinburgh he dabbled with the idea of heading into Glasgow to Kylsith, the town of his birth, though there were no family or friends left there, as it had been too long.

Kylsith was a town many of the elements associated with a Scottish market town, parks and gardens at Burngreen and Colzium complete with bandstands, welcoming hostelries such as the Coachman Hotel, The Boathouse,The Scarecrow pub and... Cambuskenneth pub. He remembered having his first glass of bitter there at a young age with his Uncle, John Abercrombie, mother's oldest brother and the father of Argyle and Ewan.

He recalled the old miner's row houses that no doubt had been cleared away long ago to keep up with the times. The town's biggest claim to fame was that it was the place where the winter sport of curling was first constituted. Curling was played on the Curling Pond in the Colzium Estate in the east of the town. Ducky had his fond memories of that as well as playing as a child along the Dochart River.

"No," he thought, "perhaps it was best not to go there, and leave his happy memories intact, as the town had probably changed and there was no one there he knew anyway.

"Better just to head up to see the remaining family at Glenelg."

Perhaps a trip over to the Isle of Skye would be in order. He'd never managed to get there even when he had his brief but unsatisfying medical practice in Glenelg, and was always reminded how beautiful the island was. Now perhaps was the time to take that trip to Skye as well.

When first out of medical school, he set up a general practice in Glenelg wanting to be near family, mother came with him, and she enjoyed the company of Aunt Gertrude and Uncle William, and of course, the cousins.

One person was missing from this and that was his younger brother Keith, who had already abandoned the family and moved to America.

The scenery around the town was spectacular, with the family cottage having a view out its back door of Loch Hourn that ran inland from the Sound of Sleat, opposite the island of Skye.

Glenelg consisted of less than twenty houses, and a pub and to the South, the nearest hamlet of Arnisdale, ten miles away and near the Abercrombie dairy farm, had only nine homes. This low density population did not make for a large clientele, and needless to say Ducky advised farmers on more sick sheep and cows than he did to treat people. It was then he became a medical consultant to the military during the late 60s and went off to Vietnam.

.

Ducky finally made it to Sheffield, and there deciding to have a bite to eat; he asked one of the locals for a recommendation on a public house.

"Oh love, ya'd wanta go tew the Queens Head ya dew. It's on Pond Hill and a lovely auld place it is... one of the aldest in Sheffield."

Ducky found her accent delightful, as he'd forgotten that distinctiveness of the Sheffield dialect.

He was not disappointed as the tavern was a white timber framed Tudor style building that looked as though it had stepped out of a Shakespearean play. The name of the place, no doubt, stemming from the fact that Mary, Queen of Scots, was imprisoned in Sheffield from 1570 to 1584.

Inside was a slightly old fashioned place, with a central bar surrounded by several rooms varying in size, one of which served as a dedicated restaurant.

It had an atmosphere of the old fashioned spit and sawdust pub that was a refreshing change for him, as he was accustomed to the bars back home, but the locals here, were mostly working class and quite colorful.

After eating a lovely lunch of minced meat pie and a glass of delightful Thwaites beer called, oddly enough, a Lancaster Bomber; Ducky found himself engaged in a game of darts with a few of the regulars, who were most welcoming. And when it was time, to leave, he found himself momentarily regretting having to do so.

"I'll see you later!" One of the men called to him; that, an oddly distinctive farewell used throughout Britain. Those unfamiliar with it, could find it confusing since it often did not mean that the speaker would expect to see you later. It was simply a colloquial way of saying `good-bye'.

Ducky got into the Aston Martin, which had attracted the attention of some of the local children, along with a few of the 'punters'.

"Posh car," one called out to him, "but shouldn't Daniel Craig be at the wheel." He snickered.

Ducky ignored the comment; starting up the car and taking off down the road.


	5. Chapter 5

Ducky continued his leisurely drive towards Edinburgh, arriving in the late afternoon. He put up the roof of the convertible, locked away his suitcase and laptop in the small boot and headed toward the University with his trusty umbrella in hand as the skies were starting to darken, telling him a storm might be on the way.

He wandered through the arched entrance to the Medical School Cloister leading to the main quad, stopping for a moment and simply staring at the grey, weather stained building.

"I say?" A man called out to him. "Donald Mallard is that you dear chap?"

Ducky let out a surprised response. "Good Lord, Stinky Witherspoon?"

The two happily shook hands. "My God man, I haven't heard that name since we were up here so long ago. Tell me anyone still call you Ducky?"

He laughed, "Most assuredly."

They walked together across the cobbled quad. "Amazing Ducky, it's been more forty than years hasn't it?"

"Has it? I suppose it has?" Ducky felt amazed it was indeed that long since he'd left these hallowed halls, and wondered where the time had really gone.

"Yes it has, and you my friend were never one for keeping track of time...remember when we walked into the middle of old Professor Uuqhardt's lecture on...what was it?"

"The autonomic nervous system." Ducky smiled, remembering it like it was yesterday... and the reason why they were late, Miss Aileen Abernathy."

"Yes, you were in bed with that girl, the red head, as I recall and assured me we wouldn't be late for the lecture. Uuqhardt was fuming and nearly kicked us out of the class, permanently.

Ducky cocked his eyebrows behind his glasses and smiled. "But we didn't get kicked out, did we? "

"You and your lady friends... say did you ever get married?"

Ducky looked a little glum at that question. "No, never had the time. I've been too busy with life."

Witherspoon pulled out his wallet, showing off snapshots of his family, and most importantly his grandchildren.

Ducky swallowed hard, shocked the man had grandchildren and quite a few of them to boot. He had the image of a young Stinky Worthington in his head, and not the man who was a grandparent.

"They're lovely. So what are you doing with yourself now?" Ducky smoothly segued to another topic.

"Still teaching here of course, in my bones as it were. They'll probably have to pick me up off the floor when I'm dead...say they could just put me on the table in one of the theatres and have at me for an autopsy lecture," Witherspoon laughed. "And how about yourself, you're looking fit, but I must say as skinny a fellow as you were, you finally put on a bit of the weight."

"I'm doing well enough," Ducky patted his stomach,chuckling. "Yes nature seems to have caught up with me finally, but I'm fit as a fiddle."

"Still in a practice of your own dear fellow, last I'd heard you had one in Glenelg?"

"Oh I gave that up years ago, too few clients ...maybe I should have specialized in veterinary medicine, as I could have treated more sheep and cows than people." Ducky gave a little chuckle at that. "Did a few stints with the military, and was in Southeast Asia and the Middle East. Medicine in the field was to say the least, challenging." His mood seemed to darken, then he shook himself free of those thoughts. " I'm in the States now, working for the government with NCIS."

"NCIS, good gracious what's that?"

"It stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I'm their chief medical examiner."

"You're in the American Navy?" Witherspoon sounded quite perplexed.

"No no dear boy, I'm a civilian employee...say before I forget, where are Professor Uuqhardt's quarters on campus, I thought I might pay the old fellow a visit."

"Oh sorry, he passed not two weeks ago. Made it to a fine age though. 99 years is nothing to sneeze at."

"Sorry to hear that, still that's a good age. I lost my dear mother recently and she lived to see her 99th year as well, but she had terrible dementia near the end, she didn't even remember me. She kept calling me by my father's name and would spit at me."

"So sorry to hear that. How is your younger brother Keith?"

"We seemed to have lost touch, pity. I don't really know why. He didn't even come for mother's funeral. I know he is a very busy man with his work."

"Married?"

"Oh yes, a lovely American girl named Dorothy, they have boy...well he's in his twenties now, his name is David." Ducky suddenly realized that he was so set on seeing his family in Scotland, that he forgotten the family he had living in Baltimore. He would have to make a point of calling his brother when he returned home, just to touch base and to see why he'd fallen off the face of the earth.

He was upset his brother didn't come for their mother's funeral, but it wasn't that surprising as Ducky couldn't recall the last time his brother had even visited with mother.

Witherspoon looked at his wristwatch. "Ducky, I have a lectures to give, are you staying around for a bit? What say we go get a bite to eat tonight at the pub... our old haunt, _The Sheep Heid Inn_?"

"Splendid, in the meantime I'll just wander the campus and reacquaint myself.

"Jolly good, Ducky. If you get tired, I could ring up the wife and have you nip over for a bit of a kip, we do have a spare bedroom?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary." He declined the offer of a place to take a nap.

"I'll meet you back here at half five then. Oh, this is so good to see you again old man."

"Old man," Ducky mused to himself. "That colloquialism took on a whole new meaning now."


	6. Chapter 6

Ducky wandered among the hallowed halls of his beloved alma mater, finding himself walking along the Anatomy Lecture corridor; its walls plastered with posters and notifications, and still painted those sickly shades of green after all these years, garishly contrasted against a highly polished red floor.

He wondered when he was a young student here, why they had chosen such colours, and he found himself shaking his head, asking himself that  
same question and again, not coming up with an answer.

There was a utility closet to his right, that gave him pause to smile...the site of his rendezvous with several young ladies before and after lectures. Given there were few female medical students back then; it was quite an achievement as Ducky remembered his reputation for being a bit of a ladies man. He laughed at himself, thinking what a brazen fellow he was to have had sex in that closet with them, and had never gotten caught...he was such a randy thing in those days.

He continued on, peeking in at the Anatomy Lecture Theatre Full of bright and eager young minds. Ten rows of descending seats, nearly all full. The students suddenly rose, some exiting the room in a rush, excusing themselves as they passed him, while some of their classmates remained behind to bombard their professor with questions.

Things hadn't changed there at all.

Ducky looked at the faces of these men and women, wondering, was he ever that young? It all seemed so long ago.

His last visit in the building was to the Anatomy Museum, with displays in wood and glass cases dating back, to pre-19th century; some from the 20th and now 21st century having been added. That suddenly made Ducky feel older than he wanted to admit. He left feeling a little melancholy, something he hadn't expected at all.

One of the more noticeable things, as he walked across the campus was of course was the dress code of the students, more particularly girls, who were in far greater number than when he was here. It appeared as though they had just thrown on whatever garments were close at hand when they woke up, tossed on a floppy hat and walked out the door. University hoodies and t-shirts didn't seem to be the rage but when he did spot a few, they were usually dark, muted colors that were adorned with a small University emblem.

Pants also seemed to be a thing of the past in Edinburgh, at least for the young ladies. Girls walked around in tights. Even though temperatures could vary greatly; short skirts, tights, floppy knit hats, pea coats with heel-less tall and short boots were seemingly the things for young ladies to wear in Edinburgh.

The look was so unattractive and unappealing to him. There was nothing feminine about it what so ever.

Gone too, apparently, were the days of dress pants for the men with shirts, ties and the University blazer with the embroidered school emblem that was once worn with a source of pride and decorum.

Once refreshing difference seemed to be the lack of students walking around campus with iPods or cell phones permanently attached to their head or hands. Instead, students still conversed with their peers while walking to class and actually paid attention to the instructors in lectures and tutorials.

Gerald had that annoying habit of using one of those IPods while in the autopsy suite, and even Mr. Palmer as well.

Ducky wandered off campus, moving a little more slowly as his knee was beginning to bother him, and decided to try to lighten his mood. Rounding a corner; he found himself confronted by walls covered with wildly coloured graffiti. That he found an affront to his senses and good taste in general. He shook his head thinking how things had changed.

"I guess you can't go home again, old boy," he muttered to himself.

He headed to Waverly Train Station, deciding to visit one of his old haunts, Linlithgow Palace, situated in the town of Linlithgow, 15 miles west of Edinburgh. The castle had been one of the principal residences of the monarchs of Scotland in the 15th and 16th centuries.

There was a small fee, 8.50 quid, to pay now in order to enter the remains of the castle and he found that incongruous, as he used to visit there without paying a penny back in the day. But now it had apparently become quite the tourist attraction.

Ducky walked through the familiar fore entrance, an archway crowned with the brightly coloured florets of the European orders of chivalry, "The Order of the Garter", "The Order of the Thistle", "The Order of the Golden Fleece" and "The Order of St. Michael."

A lone piper stood nearby, wailing away on his pipes...a tune Ducky recognized as the 'Strathspey for bagpipes' that had been composed in honour of Linlithgow Palace. It was a stately melody that was now being used to attract tourists...

The Palace was said to be haunted by the spectre of Mary of Guise, mother to Mary Queen of Scots, and this Ducky used to his advantage back in the day while having his little liaisons within the castle interior, allowing him to cuddle up to the young ladies, as they were afraid of the ghost.

He laughed at himself, thinking he was so wicked back then, to take advantage of a girls fear...just to get his arms around her in order to have a kiss. Yet looking at the hidden nooks within the castle, he suddenly remembered it was here that Aileen Abernathy chose to break things off with him, telling him he had his mind on too many things and needed to focus...especially on her. She wanted more out of life than just a good shag.

That sort of commitment was something he wasn't ready for back then; looking over his life, things hadn't changed in that regard, or had they? He came to Scotland to get over Katherine thinking he'd finally met the 'one', yet so many memories here were reminding him even more of his loneliness, and unfortunately some of his misspent youth.

Aileen Abernathy was possibly right, he did have his mind on too many things...remembering the long lists of interests he'd dictated to Jimmy Palmer when they were setting up his Facebook account.

Ducky ambled next door to St. Michael's, he wasn't overly religious but liked the church for its simple beauty and after that visit, he wandered up and down the main street, stopping into wee bit bakeries and chocolate shoppes. In one of the bakeries he sampled a piece of haggis pizza. It wasn't too bad, but doubted he'd order it as a main course. In America, one couldn't get a good haggis, as eating heart, liver and intestines cooked in the stomach of a sheep was found unappealing to most people there.

Though one time at home there had been a Robert Burns night hosted by the local St. Andrews Society, celebrating the life and poetry of Scotland's poet laureate.

That particular one had been at a nearby church in Reston in the spring, replete with haggis celebrated by Burns in _Address to a Haggis_, Scotch whisky and the recitation of Burns' poetry. It was quite an enjoyable evening and the haggis was outstanding. The suppers, though normally held on or near the poet's birthday, could be any time of the year as this one was.

He laughed, recalling trying to get Jethro to come with him, but as soon as his friend heard about the haggis, he begged off rather quickly.

Ducky spontaneously quoted aloud and rolling his 'r's' with line of poetry from 'Flyting of Dunbar and Kenney'._.."Thy fowll front had, and he that Bartilmo flaid; The gallowis gaipis eftir thy graceles gruntill, As thow wald for ane haggeis, hungry gled."_

A few passersby gave him an odd look...though he couldn't, for the life of him, understand why.

He stopped at a farmer's market and bought some sticky toffee pudding, he'd save for later, and looking at his watch; he decided to head back to the train station and Edinburgh to meet with Stinky, and no doubt reminisce about old times at the pub that evening.


	7. Chapter 7

It was dark and raining outside, and there'd been a number of loud thunderclaps that made her jump out of her skin a few times and she glanced out of the ground level windows of her lab, watching the endless parade of feet sloshing past.

Abby Sciuto returned her attention to the computer in front of her, typing away furiously on the keyboard. She needed to finish the DNA results and analysis of the bullet fragments as she knew any moment Gibbs would arrive, unseen and expecting answers. She stopped for a moment, draining the last of her Caf-pow, as she waited for her computer to talk to her.

She lifted her head, cocking it. "You're a few seconds early, not fair," she announced, as her boss appeared behind her.

"Ding."

"There." She grinned, hitting the key to print her results. "The DNA is a match but the bullet frag is inconclusive."

"Yeah but the DNA will make our case open and shut. Good job Abs, " Gibbs whispered in her ear, giving her a peck on the cheek as he handed her the jumbo cup of Caf-pow and turned to leave the lab.

"Hey Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs...what gives with Ducky? He left for a vacation without saying good bye? Is he alright, you'd tell me if there was something wrong, right. I mean, he's not sick or anything is he?"

"He's fine Abby, Ducky just needed some time away from his job, that's all. He did ask me to tell you he was sorry for going off without saying anything."

She looked at him, squinting one eye nearly closed. "You sure he's okay?"

"Look Abs, if you're so worried about him; give him a call. It's not like he's gone to the moon."

"Where did he go?"

"He went home to see some family in Scotland. Satisfied?"

Abby crinkled her nose. "Yeah...I suppose."

"Good." Gibbs said, leaning in and giving her another kiss, this time on the forehead. He sauntered out of the room and to the elevator, not saying another word. Sometimes he was amazed how brilliant, yet how waif-like Abby could be. Yet she held a special place in his heart, as kookie as she could be sometimes; he knew he loved her, almost like a daughter.

Kelly would have never grown up to be like her, but at times Abby was a comforting substitute.

He supposed that was why he showed her the affection he did. He never had feelings like that with Kate...Ziva though; he found himself feeling a bit fatherly with her, but more worry than he had with Abby. Ziva carried too many burdens, and he was the only one that knew most of them. She'd developed a bond with Ducky and would often seek his advice, but still there were things she held back from him as well. She was a tough nut to crack, and crack she finally did over her Ari and her father's final rejection of her. He could never understand that about Eli David, treating Ziva like an asset instead of like his daughter. That was something that ate away at her, in spite of her protests she had come to an understanding and resolved those issues.

There was a longing in Ziva to be loved, to have her father's love, like so many abandoned children felt. Gibbs was even mad at his own father for years until they'd finally talked things over...still it was an uneasy peace with Jackson Gibbs. They were both stubborn and guilty of mistakes, but their relationship was at least on the mend. With Ziva and Eli David, Gibbs wasn't so sure.

.

Ziva sat at her desk typing out a report when she realized there were eyes staring at her, feeling as though they were boring two holes in the back of her head.

"Tony, what are you doing?"

"Oh, umm, I was going to ask if Gibbs said anything to you about a message from Ducky?"

He asked, moving to sit on the corner of her desk.

"Enh! Off now, please."

Tony slipped off, standing at attention, watching Ziva rearrange the position of the potted plant she kept on her desk.

"So did Gibb say anything to you?"

"Only that Ducky sent an apology for not telling us good bye before he left," she answered, continuing again to type on the keyboard.

"Nothing else, nothing revealing?"

"Tony, as I said, you need to keep your nose out other people's business...you know there are two types of listeners. The ones who actually care, and the ones who are just nosey. I think you are the ladder.

"I think you mean latter."

"Whatever, the point is that you need to stop probing into everyone's personal affairs."

Tony grinned, imitating Sean Connery's voice. "Ah, my dea-ha, that's the crux of the matta isn't it...Ducky boy's 'affairs' and I'm not not talkin' business here." He switched back to his own voice.

Gibbs came into the squad room via the elevator at a fast walk, heading straight to his desk and gathering his glasses, notebook and his Sig from his desk drawer.

"Saddle up, got a dead Navy officer and possibly a friend just outside of Woodbridge." He stopped for a second, looking at his three agents, and finally tossing the keys to McGee, who grinned with satisfaction.

"Aw come on Boss, Mc Turtle here drives like an old man," Tony whined.

"Do not," McGee retorted.

"Do too."

"Not!"

"Do."

"Knock it off you two, what are you a pair of five year olds?" Gibbs hollered, snatching the keys from McGees hand and tossing them to Ziva, who dangled them like a prize.

"Aw Boss, now that's just not right, she drives too fast," Tony protested.

"What are you chicken, DiNozzo, " Gibbs walked past him, giving him a quick slap on the back of the head, and headed for the elevator.

Tony whispered to Ziva, keeping his voice low. "You know according to our new policy, that could be considered harassment."

"I heard that DiNozzo and if you three don't get your asses in this elevator, then I will be doing some real harassment and handing out some pink slips." Gibbs bellowed at them as he held the elevator door open.

The three of them scrambled, beating feet to get into the elevator before the doors closed.

"Sorry Boss," Tony quipped.

Gibbs reached up with two hands, slapping both Mc Gee and Di Nozzo on the back of their heads without batting an eye.

They both looked like they were going to complain when Gibbs cut them off.

"Not another word out of the two of you."

Tony gestured, zipping his lip with his fingers and he shot a look at Mc Gee who simply rolled his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Ziva handled the car smoothly as she pulled out of the main gate of the Washington Naval Yard; making a face in the rearview mirror at Tony.

"Head northwest on 4th Ave toward Broadway St. and turn on C St. The restricted roads will be faster." Gibbs told her.

Once she reached C St. she hit the gas pedal, as there was little traffic. Tony and Tim, sitting in the back seat held on as they felt the sedan accelerate. Gibbs smiled. The ride would normally take about 22 minutes, but with Ziva behind the wheel, they made it in fifteen.

"The arrived in a residential neighborhood on the outskirts of Woodbridge, Virginia, finding the local Leos on site.

Jimmy Palmer, drove up in the M.E. van not long after them and would have done Dr. Mallard proud as he began to complain about the police compromising the scene.

"Nice Palmer, " Tony said, "Now can you do it with a little Scottish accent? That way we can pretend the Dukster is here."

"Real funny Tony."

"Di Nozzo, leave Palmer alone and police the crime scene will you, "Gibbs barked at him and walked away to consult with the police detective whose men were stomping everywhere.

"Way to go Jim," McGee whispered. "Your first real solo investigation."

"Yeah, tell me about it," he said nervously.

"I think Jimmy will do fine," Ziva chimed in.

The body of Lieutenant Morin MacDonald lay sprawled on the ground in an alleyway off the main

drag in Woodbridge. She was dressed in civvies, and had a single bullet wound to the head.

Jimmy Palmer knelt next to the body, doing a cursory exam before inserting a probe to check her core body temperature.

"How long Palmer?" Gibbs leaned over, resting his hands on his knees.

"Umm, just a second Agent Gibbs, " Jim answered nervously as he did the math in his head, and talking to himself. "The loss in temperature is about 10.40˚ and dividing it by 1.5... I get the number of hours she's been dead to be seven, deducting 7 hours from 10 am, so that would make the time of death approximately 3 in the morning." He said proudly.

"Very good Palmer, you can do math," Gibbs quipped, "but 3 a.m. would have been enough."

"Sorry."

They turned their attention to the man lying dead next to her, with a single shot to the head as well. The local Leos identified him as Michael Donnacha-Skye, a Scottish national here on a student visa, age twenty three.

"Gibbs, he's a civilian and that's our territory, " the investigating detective said.

"Look, he's a foreign national and the two of them were obviously executed and since one of the victims is a Naval officer, his death is tied in with my case. It would make more sense for our M.E. to do the autopsies.

Detective Skelton scratched his head; he was aware of NCIS and their stubbornness at getting what they wanted and he was in no mood to butt heads with them. He eyed Jimmy Palmer, noting his geekish looks. "He's your M.E?" He asked sarcastically.

"Actually I'm acting M.E. as ugh, Dr. Mallard is away on an extended vacation. I can handle the job if that's what you're worried about." Jim said confidently.

Skelton bit his lip. "I may regret this but okay he's your headache now. Just make sure I get copies of all the paperwork. He took a sip from his coffee cup and finding it cold; he dumped the contents on the ground and the cup into a nearby dumpster.

"So much for not contaminating a crime scene," Tony whispered to Ziva.

Palmer immediately went to work, determining the same time of death for the second victim and concurring with Gibb's estimation that both victims had been killed execution style with virtually identical bullet wounds to their right temples.

The usual bits and bobs of trash were bagged, but there was nothing of note until McGee found a single brass shell casing near the dumpster.

"Found this Boss," he called out. Gibbs took a look at it, then at the dumpster. "Check it out..."

"Aw, why do I always..."

"Probie?" Gibbs called out to Ziva.

McGee smiled. "Thanks Boss."

"I didn't say you were 'not' gonna do it, you help her McGee."

Tony snickered from behind them.

"Wipe that grin off your face DiNozzo or it'll be you in the dumpster all by yourself."

"Yes Boss," Tony answered, and turned tail; going to help Palmer with the bodies instead.

Once the crime scene had been gone over with a fine tooth comb, the bodies were bagged, loaded into the Medical Examiner's van and brought to NCIS headquarters.

Jimmy Palmer stood over the body of Lieutenant MacDonald, after having made his preliminary measurements, completed a rape kit and prepared the corpse before beginning the autopsy.

"Well, Lieutenant, umm, so sorry this happened to you and I apologize for what I have to do to you." He fished around the bullet wound with a pair of forceps, extracting the bullet and dropping it into the specimen jar, sealed and labeled it. He'd have to take it to Abby as usual and in a momentary joke, he imitated Dr. Mallard. "Mr. Palmer, if you'd please take this to Miss Schiuto."

He was trying so hard to think of how Dr. Mallard would these things, usually talking to the poor victim on the table.

"Well let's see what you have to say to us Lieutenant, shall we?"

He applied a large scalpel to her chest, cutting deeply into her skin in the standard 'Y' incision from beneath the breasts, so the 'Y' had curved, rather than straight arms. The tail of the cut extended to the pubic bone, making a slight deviation to avoid the navel. The slice was very deep, extending to the rib cage on the chest, and completely through the abdominal wall below that.

Palmer never said it to anyone but, the smell of human muscle always reminded him of raw lamb meat. At this point of the autopsy; the smells were otherwise very faint.

.

Later that evening when everyone had called it quits for the night Tim and Abbey were leaving together and she made an interesting observation. She was dressed in a short plaid skirt, black tee-shirt with a skull and crossbones on the front, and a pair of black and silver platform boots, making her seem much taller than she was.

"Wanna come watch the bowling tournament, Sister Rosita thinks we're gonna cream St. Thomas Aquinas this year."

"No thanks Abby, I have some writing to do."

"Eww another book?"

"Yeah."

"Are we in it?"

"No."

"Oh, no more adventures of L.J. Tibbs and his band of merry misfits?"

"I'm not portraying anyone as a misfit, " He whined.

"Aha!" You are writing about us again. I knew it."

"Abby, I can't talk about it, so can we change the subject please?"

"Okay, so Isn't it like weird that the people you brought in today were both of Scottish ancestry and Ducky is Scottish and in Scotland right now.

"So?" McGee said. "What does one have to do with the other...it's just a coincidence, that's all."

"Yeah, but doesn't Gibbs say, 'there's no such thing as a coincidence? She made an eerie gesture with her hands. "I thinks it's spooooky."

The elevator doors closed as McGee chewed on the inside of his lip while he pondered that thought...


	9. Chapter 9

Ducky arrived back at the University, picking up his car along with Witherspoon and set out for Duddingston. It was a short jaunt to the pub, only ten minutes or so. Back in the day they had to make the jaunt by foot and putting a good leg under it; they could make it to The Sheep Heid in thirty minutes or so, and by that time Ducky and his friends had worked up a nice thirst as well as an appetite.

He'd never been a heavy drinker, but enjoyed his pints. No self respecting Scotsman wouldn't cherish his single malt scotch, and Ducky was no exception.

He turned the car east on College street towards A7, down to Old Church Lane, skirting along Holyrood Park and Duddleston Loch, to the causeway where he pulled up in front of the familiar tudor-esque white building with black trim.

It looked the same, as incandescent light drifted out through the window panes, casting a warm and welcoming glow.

"So many memories here," Ducky sighed with a smile.

There had reputedly been a pub on this spot selling liquor and victuals since 1360, making The Sheep Heid Inn perhaps the oldest surviving licensed premises in Edinburgh, if not Scotland.

There was many the day Ducky Mallard, Stinky Witherspoon and a few of the lads would end up here after a hard day in class or a rousing match on the cricket pitch. They'd eat, have a few pints and play a few rounds of _skittles._.. a variation on bowling from which the modern game is descended. It was pub style food, simple and hardy and a long way from the reputed fare of old.

In nearby Holyrood Park, sheep were once were slaughtered in Duddingston before being taken to market in Edinburgh's Old Town. There being no great demand for the heads.. _heids_ in Scots vernacular; Duddingston village became renowned for its culinary genius with this less than savoury item. Two dishes in particular were widely remarked upon, sheep heid broth, called 'powsowdie' and 'singed sheep heid'. Until the late 19th century the use of these heads was so commonplace that the locals used the skulls as cobbles for their pathways. So the pub's name may have originated here, yet far more plausibly, its name most likely came about following a royal gift in 1580 of an ornate ram's head snuff box, given by King James VI of Scotland.

Duddingston was halfway between the royal residences of Craigmillar Castle and Holyrood Palace, and James, like his mother Mary, Queen of Scots, was purported to have stopped at The Sheep Heid many times and even played skittles in the courtyard behind the pub. In gratitude James presented the landlord with his highly unusual gift that remained on site for 300 years before being auctioned to the Earl of Rosebery, whose descendants possessed it still at their country seat of Dalmeny House.

Over the centuries the Inn witnessed many events. The factions of the Covenanting years who were known to stop off as they passed to and fro, as did the Jacobite Army a century later. The army of Bonnie Prince Charlie was encamped at Duddingston for a month prior to the battle of Prestonpans.

So much for history, Ducky mused. The days of good fellowship and comradery filled his head, as well as his memories of Aileen Abernathy, and he hadn't even stepped through the door.

**Once inside, he and Stinky looked about; seeing little had changed. The walls and shelves were still lined with old clocks, books, and Bric-à-brac that had been deposited by patrons over the years. Ducky smiled, looking at a small tarnished trophy cup still there after all these years; he'd put it on one of the shelves to join the other mementos after his cricket team placed third in a small tournament.**

Every little nook was filled with memories.

He and Witherspoon lowered themselves into a pair high back leather wing chairs beside the welcoming fireplace, burning and crackling with its warmth. Behind Ducky's chair stood a pole lamp with a time worn tasseled lamp shade; the light from it casting a muted glow.

The clock sitting on the mantle chimed the hour and that exact moment he had a vision of Aileen sitting across from him where Witherspoon sat, making him wonder what ever happened to her.

She avoided him that last year at University, and he'd catch a glimpse of her now and then in the quad. But Aileen would hurry off when he'd try to catch up with her. She was a lovely girl, one he probably could have settled down with and made babies...but he was too selfish to realize that back then.

"Too late to cry over what could have been," he thought.

Someone from the bar came over and placed their drink orders before they were seen in to have supper.

"Things have changed a bit," Ducky laughed upon seeing the menu, gone were the days of fish and chips, and grated cheese sandwiches. It was no longer the simple pub-food of yesteryear, and now what was claimed as unpretentious pub -food, seemed borderline gourmet; no doubt to please the tourist trade.

For starters, he ordered the Crab & crayfish cocktail with cucumber, baby cress and lemon-chive crème fraîche and Chef 's French onion & port soup with crisp Wensleydale cheese croûton. Stinky ordered the goat's cheese, chilli & courgette risotto skewers, grilled and served on Mediterranean vegetables with a broad bean dressing.

For the main meal Ducky decided on grilled Scottish salmon fillet on lemon & herb crushed potatoes with piedmont pepper, tomato dressing and baby cress, and Witherspoon took the Braised beef-rib & mushroom pie with puff pastry lid and pea mashed potato.

For afters, a selection of British cheeses with biscuits & country garden chutney. And as Ducky had surmised, all presented gourmet style, lots of show and no substance. The portions were small, but delicious and satisfying enough.

The rest evening was spent on reminiscing over old times, with generously poured glasses of single malt and before Ducky and Stinky knew it, the mantle clock told them it was ten o'clock.

"Well sorry old boy," Stinky said, "That's my cue to head home and see the wife and get to bed. I have an early day of classes ahead of me. Not like when we were young and would stay here until the wee hours, enh?"

"No indeed," Ducky smiled, picking up the tab to Stinky's protest. "I need to get off to an early start tomorrow myself, as I'd like to make it to Glenelg within the next few days...mind you, I'll be making a few scenic side trips along the way." He winked.

After an offer to drive Witherspoon home, he ended up dropping him at the train station, where they said their goodbyes. Ducky drove off to the bed and breakfast he'd booked earlier for a good nights rest. It had been a long day and he was feeling more tired than he'd anticipated.

"Not getting any younger," he mumbled to himself as he crawled into his comfortable bed, falling asleep within minutes.


	10. Chapter 10

The bed and breakfast was on Dalkeith Road, giving him a spectacular view of Holyrood Park, situated five minutes away. The park was regarded as a microcosm of Scottish scenery, with a stunning array of hills, lochs, glens, ridges, basalt cliffs, and patches of whin packed into its landscape.

Ducky awoke feeling quite refreshed, surmising that all the fresh air let him sleep so soundly. He looked out his bedroom window on the fifth floor taking in the view of Arthur's Seat, the main peak of the group of hills that formed most of Holyrood, a remarkably wild piece of highland landscape in the centre of the city of Edinburgh, and to think only about a mile to the east of Edinburgh Castle.

The cliffs of Salisbury Crags were to the west, with three lochs; St Margaret's Loch, Dunsapie Loch, and Duddingston Loch. The ruined St. Anthony's Chapel stood above St. Margaret's Loch, with St Margaret's Well and St Anthony's Well, both natural springs within the park. Holyrood Park was to the south-east of theOld Town, at the edge of the city to the North, and Duddingston village to the East. The University of Edinburgh's Pollock Halls of Residence were to the south-west, and Dumbie dykes to the West. All very familiar places, that had no doubt remained unchanged.

He used to take hikes with Aileen through the park, and had their hidden places where they'd spread their blanket and make love under the sun. Yes, they were fond memories indeed.

Ducky bathed, dressed himself in suitable outdoor clothing including a sturdy pair of hiking boots, and ate his breakfast. InScotland, the full breakfast consisted of eggs, back bacon, buttered toast, baked beans, and Earl Grey tea, making it more 'Scottish' with the addition of Scottish style black pudding, sliced sausage, tattie scones as well as grilled tomato, mushrooms, white pudding, fruit and oatcakes. He normally wouldn't have eaten such a large breakfast, but this was too good a treat to let go to waste.

He inhaled every bit of it with gusto. Such a breakfast would keep him going all day, especially if he decided to stop and do some hiking, though he was fully aware of the nickname for such a feast being, 'a heart attack on a plate. Anthony Di Nozzo would probably enjoy such a meal, with his love of cholesterol laden, unhealthy foods such as pizza. Ducky finished his breakfast, and the landlady poured him another cup of tea; she'd been busy with the cooking and seeing to the other visitors and hadn't had much time to speak to him.

"An weer ye's sae ye were goin?" She asked with a heavy Highland burr.

"Glenelg to see family," he smiled at her.

"Och, Glenelg, I was a wee bairn there. An hew de ya sae yer family is?"

"Oh, my cousins Fidelma Weir, Argyle and Ewan Abercrombie who have a dairy farm just north of Glenelg."

"Isn't that magic? Och, I knew tham weel. Nae isn't tha' a wee world? Aye, t'was a shame about Delma's mon."

"Yes, her husband was a good man, taken all too young I'm afraid.."

"Ye are not frae Glenelg, ye sound more like a Yank."

Ducky laughed at that. "No I was born in Kylsith, but I've been away from Scotland for a very long time. I do live in the States, and I suppose some of their way of speaking has indeed rubbed off on me."

"I still hear a wee bit o' the burr, it's nae gone yet. There's a hit a weegie there," * she smiled at him. "Weel gi' me best to hame and hearth. Tell Delma, Glenna weel be back soon; this place is heavin', and gives me little time fer anythin' else."

Ducky was flattered when she said he still had a touch of his Glaswegian accent. He thanked her, paid his bill and set out upon the next leg of his journey; where he'd stop along the way would be a his mood struck him. The highlands were teeming with flora and fauna, and he might lay by for a hike, just to take it all in. Perhaps he'd stop for a round of golf at King James VI course outside of Perth? It was less than an hour away, and he could rent a set of clubs.

Ducky headed up M90, though the sky looked threatening again, the rain he thought would appear yesterday, hadn't, but just as he was nearing the turnoff for Perth, the sky opened up.

"That settles that," he bemoaned.

The five hour long journey now to Glenelg lay ahead, and even though he was looking forward to it, his sense of 'aloneness' became more and more obvious to him. Thinking about Aileen, what could or perhaps should have been, made is sadness about Katherine all the more pointed. He had not made wise choices of late when it came to women,

Jordan was a comfort to him in his time of need and a good friend but never a companion, Sophie who was much too young for him and at the time flattered his ego, but then she tried to change him and his ways; that wouldn't do at all. And Mary, he let himself be blinded by his need for companionship not to see her problems. Katherine seemed so different, and he'd been cautious with her, biding his time and still it hadn't worked out. He wondered, though, if she'd not been transferred...would it have? Was he destined to spend the rest of his days alone, speaking to the dead?

"Stop berating yourself, you're here to forget about women for a while Donald," he chastised himself as he concentrated on driving in the pouring rain.

The weather was horrid for the remainder of the drive, and Ducky decided he didn't want to muc about in among the heather as his wellies and mac were still packed in his suitcase, and the rain was just coming down in torrents.

He was of mixed feelings so far on this little jaunt of his; it was, rather unexpectedly bringing back unhappy memories along with the good ones.

Seeing Stinky Whitherspoon, and being made aware the man had grandchildren made Ducky even more cognizant of his age, and his loneliness, the reality of Stinky's life having worked out quite nicely, contrasted against the death of Professor Urqhardt, who died alone in his quarters...with no family. He had outlived his peers, and what few relations he had.

"Would such an ending be mine as well?" Ducky asked sadly, feeling a bit sorry for himself.

.

* hint of a Glasgow accent.


	11. Chapter 11

Gibbs made his usual silent entry into Abby's lab as she typed furiously on her computer keyboard, the music to some ungodly loud alternative rock band blasting away in the background.

"Abby," he called to her with a slightly raised voice, getting no response he tapped her shoulder and signed for her to lose the music.

"Hi Gibbs!" She smiled cheerfully as only Abby could do, hitting the remote, bringing silence to her lab.

"Can't you listen to anyone like Waylon Jennings?"'

"Who?"

"Never mind. What'ya got for me Abs?"

She turned away, then back to him, holding up pair of glass specimen jars, each containing the bullets from their latest homicide.

"This is soooo cool. These bullets were fired from a vintage Webley revolver, .38, Mark 4. Here's a bit of history...It was officially adopted for military service by the British in 1942 and was initially a scaled-down version of the .455 Mark 6 revolver, chambered for .38 S&W cartridge, and developed by Webley & Scott in 1923 for police use. These guns were regarded obsolete in 1963. The official British .38/200 ammunition was based on early, black powder .38 Smith & Wesson cartridge, and was used with heavy 13.4 gram bullet, leaving the muzzle at relatively slow velocities of about 650 feet per second. Is this not awesome or what?"

"Depends, that type of gun is going to be a kicker to trace...too many vintage gun collectors out there."

"Ah you speak too soon, there's not that many _dealers_ in vintage revolvers like this." Abby smiled, "I did some checking and there's a gun dealership in Dumfries that specializes in rare guns from World War I and II, specifically British issue."

Gibbs smiled, producing a jumbo caf-pow from behind his back, sealing his thanks with a quick peck to her cheek.

"Thanks Abs, good job."

He headed to the elevator, and up to the squad room, holding out the piece of paper that Abby had given him at arms length, not bothering to take out his reading glasses.

"McGee, I want everything you can find out on Taylor Vintage Weaponry, in Dumfries. Check recent gun sales for a Webley revolver, .38, Mark 4."

"Got it Boss." McGee set out, typing furiously on his keyboard, and in a few minutes had his answers.

"Yes there was a recent sale to a Callum Donnacha, two weeks ago."

"Hey that's the same weird name as the victim..." Tony blurted out.

"Do ya think Di Nozzo."

"Got a home address McGee?"

"Already have it Boss," he smiled, holding up the post-it note, and seeing Tony sneering at him.

"Di Nozzo, quit making faces and go get the car ready." Gibbs tossed him the key, as he gathered up his things. "Well, let's go people, saddle up, what are you waiting for, Christmas?"

"On your six, boss," Tony called out, practically crawling up the mans butt.

This time the rest of them hustled, making it to the elevator right behind Tony and their fearless leader. Di Nozzo casting a smirk, having beaten the others inside.

.

"Heading to the home address boss?" Tony asked as he started up the sedan.

"No first to the gun shop." Gibbs was always a man of few word.

"Right Boss," Tony said as he pulled out of the lot.

Dumfries was a small sleepy sort of town, its population just a little over five thousand. The businesses were somewhat spread out along Main St. with most of them catering to the nearby Marine base of Quantico.

They pulled up in front of the gun dealership, but at first glance it looked closed. Gibbs pressed his nose against the glass, seeing some back lights on.

"Sign on the door says it's closed boss," Tony pointed out. "Wonder if they knew we were coming? Your search couldn't have tipped them off Mc Geek, could it?"

"Nooo way Tony, all I did was Google," McGee protested.

"Well we can get inside easily enough, " Ziva smiled, holding up her tools to pick the lock.

"What if there's an alarm," Tony asked.

As Ziva knelt preparing to work on the lock, Gibbs reached over, turning the handle and opening the door.

"Pays to check," he said as he moved inside with his Sig drawn. As soon as they stepped inside they were hit by the telltale odor of other's followed suit, each taking a section of the store and searching it, whispering 'clear' as they finished.

"Over here!" Ziva called out. "We have a body."

A man lay sprawled out in the back room of the gun shop with a single bullet wound to the head, exactly like Lieutenant McDonald and the Scotsman, Michael Donnacha-Skye.

"No signs of robbery, the cash register is closed tight.

Tim pressed a 'no sale' button and the drawer opened, revealing plenty of cash in side. "Money is there and none of guns seem to have been disturbed, they're all locked in place." McGee called.

"DiNozzo you wait here for Palmer. McGee, you and David with me."

They headed out to the address of Callum Donnacha's residence, on Tallowwood Drive, located in a more residential section of Dumfries. Pulling up in front of a small innocuous grey house set back from the street in a quiet neighborhood;Gibbs,McGee and David cautiously approached it with their weapons drawn.

Jethro signalled for Ziva to take the back, and after giving her a few minutes, he pounded on the door.

"NCIS open up!" Nothing happened, and he kicked the door open. Once inside, it was obvious there was no one home, and a quick search confirmed that.

The interior of the house had been trashed, and looked like the occupant made a hasty retreat.

"McGee I want a bolo issued on this guy now."

"On it Boss."

Once the scene had been secured, and fingerprints lifted. They returned to headquarters.

Some time later Palmer, having finished his autopsy, the results of Abby's tests arrived and confirmed the gun store owner had been killed by the same _Wembly_ handgun.

Mc Gee was typing away on his computer keyboard, when he suddenly stopped, cursing under his breath.

"What is it McGee?" Gibbs looked up from his desk.

"Yeah, spill it McGoogle." Tony quipped.

"Boss, Callum Donnacha boarded a flight bound for Heathrow at 8:40 this morning and landed about two hours ago. I'm afraid we've lost him."

Gibbs shook his head. "Okay what are you waiting for McGee, notify Scotland yard that we have a British national as prime suspect in a triple homicide, of two civilians and a member of the U.S. military. And get me a more detailed background on this Donnacha fellow. I wanna know if he's related to Michael Donnacha-Skye."

"Already have it boss." McGee put it up on the plasma.

"Michael Donnacha-Skye, born on the Island of Skye in Scotland, he's the heir to a 20,000 acre estate in southern Skye, he's the son of the late of Lord Simon Donnacha-Skye. I guess they refer to him as a Laird. His mother, Lady Aileen Donnacha-Skye currently runs the estate. He was to have taken over the Lairdship on after his twenty-first birthday. They even own a castle...Armadale Castle.

"Welcome to Clan Donald Skye, a magnificent 20,000 acre estate in south Skye. Enjoy an outstanding holiday experience, exploring the historic gardens and woodland trails around Armadale Castle, learning about highland history in our fascinating Museum of the Isles or staying in our self-catering lodges" Tim read that aloud, realizing it was just an advertisement at that point..

"And Callum Donnacha?" Ziva asked.

"He is first cousin to Michael. And by rights of succession would be the one to inherit the estate now..."

"Well there's our motive to have killed his cousin but what about Lieutenant McDonald.?" Tony asked.

"A victim of circumstance, perhaps?" Ziva proposed." I checked and the Lieutenant had just started dating him only three weeks ago. Apparently her parents were from this place, Skye and emigrated here in the 1950s. Morin Mac Donald was born in Scotland, but became a naturalized citizen."

Gibbs knew Ducky was going to be staying in the area near the Isle of Skye, and contemplated giving him a call.


	12. Chapter 12

For the next three and a half hours Ducky drove through the highlands, finding it a rather circuitous route, weaving past the many bodies of water. At Loch Ericht, he stopped in the village of Dalwhinne at the northeast end of the loch, to stretch his legs and grab a bite to eat, though it was only an hour and a quarter out of Perth. He found the fresh Scottish air had given him quite a hearty appetite.

Loch Ericht was surrounded by a number of Munros, including Ben Alder and Geal Charn, traditional hunting areas bordering the loch, chief of which was Ben Alder Forest.

The loch itself, being part of a hydro-electric scheme, was dammed at both ends, with water flowing into the northern end via the Cuaich Aqueduct. The southern end was linked to a hydroelectric power station at Loch Rannoch by the 4-mile long River Ericht. The northern dam protects the village of Dalwhinnie from flooding.

Ben Alder, one of the most remote and isolated of the munros of the Southern Highlands, miles from any public road, was guarded on each side by mountains, lochs and great moors. It required considerable effort to see, much less climb, but gone were those days, Ducky sighed. If he were a much younger man, he might have taken that challenge, but given his age, he resigned himself to the fact there were just some things in life he'd have to give up as the foolish meanderings of an old man.

Glimpses of Alder's dark shape were usually glimpsed from the A9, as it passed the Dalwhinnie Distillery. Here the long glacial trench which held Loch Ericht, and provided one brief line-of-sight through the tangled mountain architecture to great Ben Alder beyond. Still Ducky looked down Loch Ericht, and longed to be heading out into the mountains and the sight of distant Ben Alder in the rugged distance would stay a challenge unmet.

Then he smiled, remembering the distillery at Dalwinne, and he decided to make that a side trip. It was the highest-elevation working distillery in Scotland, making Dalwhinnie Single Malt...a light, heathery whisky. There he enjoyed a bit of a nip before proceeding on the last leg of his journey, and engaged in conversation with some hikers who'd stopped for a whisky tasting; the topics ranging through history, faith, politics, the Bible, children, business, education, and the foolishness of falling into fast-flowing rivers..

Ducky bid his farewells, but not before purchasing a case of the famed scotch, for it to be shipped home to the States. It would arrive well after he'd returned, since the shipment would take time to clear customs. He took a few extra bottles with him for the cousins as well.

He finally reached one of the more stunning parts of the drive, over the 1100 ft. hairpinned pass of Mam Ratagan down to the village of Glenelg on the Sound of Sleat.

The road itself brought him to a stop at the summit to take in the view, seeing Loch Duich on the near side and and down the glen to Glenelg. The Saddle and Sguirr Fharan on the other, with a surprising bit of early snow on the ground, but then he supposed at this elevation, it was highly likely.

"And here you are," Ducky smiled to himself as he entered the village nestled at the bottom of the glen overlooking the water to Skye – the Misty Isle. Cottages, peat smoke, a pub and a shop, no more than thirty or so houses, that was Glenelg.

The village had little to offer the hedonist, apart from the odd _ceilidh_, it was more for someone who wanted clean, fresh air, beautiful scenery, and quiet. There were all manner of sporting distractions, shooting, fishing, sailing, biking and walking – but just a walk around Glenelg itself and feeling the serenity it offered, that was what made it special.

Ducky smiled and sighed, supposing this was as close he'd get to being home. He didn't feel that way in Edinburgh; he knew he wouldn't find it in Kilsyth. Reston in Virginia was the only home because of mother, Georgetown...it was a place to hang his hat, but it didn't feel like home. Glenelg, that was what brought back memories, warm and happy ones. Innocent ones. He wondered why he really left so many years ago, and supposed it was simply the restlessness of his youth. He'd spent so many years in school, then to come to Glenelg, a sleepy place and his medical practice lacked excitement...that was it. He went off into the world to do good and to find some excitement in life.

And now he was coming full circle, back to Glenelg to forget his troubles for a bit and find some serenity. That realization he thought rather profound.

He pulled up the Aston Martin onto the driveway to Fidelma's house, one of the larger ones in the village. Like many others she let out rooms, running it as part of a bed and breakfast for visitors heading over to Skye. Since her husband Malcolm had passed, she did it for extra income as his pension wasn't enough to maintain the house. She hadn't the heart to sell it and the reality was that she simply had nowhere else to go.

There were the cousins Argyle and Ewan not far away, but the life on a dairy farmer was not one for Fidelma. She was the woman of the house, and was, like mother had been, accustomed to a certain lifestyle.

The fact that she took care of guests in her home, was a major change in character for her, yet he supposed it was just like entertaining friends. She did adore her parties.

A grey haired woman stepped out the front door, her white apron flying in the chilly off-shore breeze.

"Och! Donald!" She cried out, throwing her arms in the air. Fidelma rushed forward, nearly knocking him to the ground as she grabbed hold of him.

Tears filled both their eyes, as it had been just too long since they'd seen each other, and they walked into the house arm in arm. Ducky pausing for a moment, envisioning mother standing in the doorway smiling at him.

Yes, he was home at last. He suddenly had the image of 'Brigadoon' in his mind, a village lost to the mists of time. Glenelg was like that, as little seemed to have changed.

"Delma, it's so good to see you again my dear." Ducky grinned at her, running his hand along her cheek and looking into her blue eyes.

"And yew as weel. Aye it's be tew long."

"Oh before I forget, I met a friend of yours in Edinburgh...at her restaurant."

"Och, dinna tale me, Glenna?"

"Yes, yes!" He pointed, quite animated that his cousin had guessed. "She said to give you her regards and that she'd be home for a visit soon."

"She's haed a hard life tha' one, it'll be gewd ta sae her again." Fidelma's eye's glazed over for a moment, then focused again, returning to her task at hand.

Ducky watched as she made a pot of tea for them, and thinking it was so nice to see someone brew it properly, none of that tea-dust nonsense.

Delma readied the loose tea leaves, while boiling the water in a modern convenience, an electric tea kettle.

She warmed the teapot with hot tap water and let it stand, covered with a lovely blue cozy, no doubt hand stitched by her. She assembled all the serving accessories, before the water came to a boil...sliced lemons, sugar and honey as well as readying the strainer. She warmed some milk in a small saucepan, putting it on very low heat.

He was delighted to see his cousin measured out the tea leaves into a tea ball, and once water had boiled she immediately poured it into the teapot, covering it again with the cozy while the tea steeped for nearly four minutes.

"I'd know that scent anywhere, Darjeeling?" He smiled.

"Aye, 'tis a rare pleasure as wi' most thae toorists, I use the Brodies tea bags. Tsk, saves a wee bit o' time when there's a fair few ta serve thae meals ta. Och, but they're a bonnie crewd, they are. Nae trable atall.

She poured the milk into a serving cup, then set out the fine china cups and saucers. Ducky held his cup, looking at the design. It was the Royal Albert regency blue design, and no doubt the cup was older than he was. It was stunning with its royal blue, gold and red floret patterns. He remembered them well, and again he had a vision of mother sitting in this very kitchen sipping her tea and laughing and Uncle William's lunatic stories. He swore he saw Nessie once, but that was a night of too many pints at the pub, and he was at the wrong loch.

Delma produced some nice scones fresh out of the oven and those along with some coarse cut marmalade and the tea; Ducky was completely relaxed and feeling the happiest he'd felt in a long time.

The tea and scones finished off, and Delma suggested he might want to freshen up.

"Yes that would be a good idea, you don't have to show me to my room," he smiled, "I remember the way. I just need to get my suitcase and my laptop."

"Nae, Robbie'll dew that."

"Robbie?"

"Poor wee lad, his parents died last year out on the loch, drowned they did. He had nae kith or kin, so he came here ta live wi' me. He's a grand help he is."

A young toe-headed boy, maybe around the age of fourteen peeked his head into the kitchen. He gave Delma a freckle faced smile, and greeted Ducky.

"Haigh, aim Robbie." He held out his hand in a gentlemanly manner and Ducky took hold and shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you young man."

"Thank yew, it's a braw place Fidemla has here and aim graetful fer her takin' mae in."

"And I'm happy tha' yer here boy. 'Tis a comfort tae an auld woman."

"You're not old, " both Ducky and the boy chimed in together, followed by a hearty laugh.

Ducky handed the boy the keys to the car, and Robbie disappeared, returning in minutes carrying the suitcase and computer.

"Is this a real computhar?"

"Aye, 'tis," Ducky answered, using the local vernacular. "Have you never seen one?"

"Nae, we dinna have that internet thingy here yet, and can barely get the cell-phone service. But good news is tha' Argyle and Ewan ha' tha' internet thing-a-ma-bob up theer way."

"Good, that's good to know. I may want to contact my assistant at work, just to see how he's doing. This is his first time soloing without me." Ducky winked at her.

"Aye like yer car, posh it 'tis." Robbie smiled ",Are ye a rich mon?"

"Robbie, dinna talk tha' way, 'tis rood." Delma chided.

"No Robbie, I'm not rich, but fairly well off. I've worked hard all my life and after my mother died I came into some money. The car is a rental, that's all. A bit of fun for...an old man."

"Och but it's the car tha' drive in the James Bond movies isn't it?" The boy smiled."Aive seen them on the telly."

"Yes it is," Ducky answered. "If you like, tomorrow we can take a wee ride in it and you can reacquaint me with Glenelg, it's been a long time since I've been here."

The boy looked to Delma for permission.

"Aye," she nodded, ruffling his hair. Och ya wee numpty!

.

numpty - idiot, it's almost an affectionate term of endearment!

* A Munro is a mountain in Scotland with a height over 3,000 ft. so named after Sir Hugh Munro, who produced the first list of such hills, known as _Munros Tables_, in 1891.


	13. Chapter 13

Ducky decided to take a nap after all his driving, and a stomach full of tea and delicious scones having made him a little drowsy. He reminded himself to ask his cousin for her recipe.

His short nap turned into a surprisingly long sleep and he was awakened by a gentle rapping at his door.

"Yes, come in," he called, sitting up on the edge of his bed.

The room had changed little in all these years. Other than fresh coats of paint, the furniture and the even the pattern for the curtains were the same. Knowing Delma, she most likely had a bolt of two of the same cloth that her mother had, and remade the curtains after they'd seen too much wear.

Come to think of it, the apron she wore was the same cloth, most likely a recycled curtain. He smiled at his cousin's frugality, even though that was such a stereotypical thought on his part...and he a Scotsman.

He'd never been like that, and in fact with his inheritance from mother and the sale of the house in Reston, he was actually a rich man. Something he kept to himself, as people around you change when they find out you're wealthy.

Though Ducky pondered how Scottish he still was really was despite his ring-tone on his cell being 'Scotland the Brave'... his life away from Caledonia had been long, with many outside influences exerted upon him. He wondered if people here would consider him a Brit or a Yank, given his accent had strongly altered by both England and the U.S.

The door opened, and in peeked Robbie's smiling face.

"Delma asked me to wake yew. Ye must have been a wee bit tired, as yew slept right threw ta supper time."

"Really?" Ducky looked at his wristwatch. "And so I have. I'll just wash up and be down momentarily. Thank you Robbie."

Ducky headed off to the bog at the end of the hallway...still the simple white tiled bathroom, with a white clawfoot bath tub. He splashed his face with a little cold water, scrubbed his hands and combed his hair. When satisfied with his appearance, he put on his jacket, tightened up his bow tie, and headed downstairs. There he was greeted by a number of unfamiliar faces as he entered the large dining room.

There were at least a half dozen people, some them couples, seated at the table.

Delma announced his arrival. "I'd like yew all ta meet my cousin Donald Mallard, visiting from the States."

"Oh so you're an American?" A young man smiled," My name is Mike Weir, from New York. What part of the United States are you from?"

Ducky smiled at him. "Oh I was born in Scotland, in a town called Kilsyth, though I did spend a lot of time in London after the war. Now I live in Virginia, where I work as a medical examiner."

"You're a Doctor, cool."

"Aye yes, he works fer thae government there, important work i tis', halping ta solve crimes, our Donald does."

"Where do you work Donald?" Mike asked.

"Please, call me Ducky...I work at NCIS."

"Wow, Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

He was surprised at that response, and Mike could see it.

"Oh, I was in the Marines Doctor, used to be a Gunny, and an M.P. for a while."

He laughed at that, seating himself next to the American.

"How interesting, my friend and coworker Jethro was also a Gunny as well as an M.P. in the Marines... now he's chief investigator for NCIS in Washington.

"Jethro? Not Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" Mike was incredulous.

"My goodness, yes. You _know_ him?"

"Not personally, but my Uncle knew him. Lots of sniper stories and such. Wow, now this is what I call a small world.

"It is indeed,"Ducky grinned, wondering what the odds were on that.

The chatter subsided around the table as Delma and Robbie served supper, something special Ducky suspected from the wonderful scents emanating from the kitchen.

Delma had prepared _cock-a-leekie soup_ for starters, a very traditional Scottish dish of leeks and chicken stock and garnished with a julienne of prunes.

But now as he he could smell the rosemary, bay leaf and thyme wafting through the air and knew that Delma had prepared a boiled _gingot of mutton_...he hadn't had that in...well he actually couldn't recall, and _Rumbledethumps,_ a traditional dish from the Scottish Borders. The main ingredients being potato, cabbage and onion, similar to Irish colcannon, and English bubble and squeak, it is served as an accompaniment to the main dish.

And for afters, _Tipsey Laird_, a beautifully layered trifle with custard, fruit, sponge cake, fruit gelatin and topped with fresh whipped cream and more slice fruit, arranged in a pleasing pattern.

As he spooned the delicious dessert into his mouth, Ducky let out a quiet sigh. Yes, it was good to be home.

After supper, and the guests wandered off to do their own thing, he insisted on helping Delma and Robbie clean up the table and take care of the dishes. When that task was completed, she made them a nice hot toddy with some of the Scotch he'd brought with him, as well as sugar and spices.

Together Ducky and Delma passed the hours talking about their deceased parents and the mischief they used to get into. Delma still couldn't get over the fact that Ducky wasn't traumatized after his mother left him as a child on the ferry...

When the old clock in the hall struck midnight, they agreed it was way past bedtime, and should head off before they both turned to pumpkin.

Ducky gave his cousin a peck on the cheek goodnight and headed up to his room, finally feeling happy and contented.

"Fidelma, my dear, it's so good to see you and be here...home."

"Och Donald, t'will always be hame, yew knew tha," she smiled, giving him a hug and a kiss." G'night love."

.

Tomorrow Robbie would be is guide, and perhaps they'd head up to see Argyle and Ewan on the farm... that was if Delma could spare the boy for that long a time.

The next morning Ducky woke early, feeling quite refreshed, and along with Robbie, he helped Delma with the breakfast. The three of them chose to eat in the kitchen rather than with the guests.

He proposed his absconding with Robbie for most of the day, and Delma was delighted.

"Och, the wee lad does tew much here a times, better he gets oot and aboot. Aye, it'll dew em some gewd!"

She packed a basket lunch for them, and told Ducky where her husbands fishing poles were kept in a shed out back...if he felt so inclined to do some fishing and bring some back for supper; obviously taking off with Robbie did come with a price.

Ducky dressed in his study walking boots, along with comfortable trousers, a turtleneck, sweater and a nice tweed jacket, he doffed his favorite hat and posed in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, thinking he looked all the tourist, and chuckled. No matter, better to be dressed warmer, as the loch could be quite chilly with the off shore winds.

He decided to bring his overcoat and a scarf as well.

Robbie was waiting for him beside the car, dressed warmly himself, but wearing his wellies instead. The boy was whittling away on a long tree branch.

"Are you ready to be the tour guide young man?" Ducky grinned.

"Aye, made this fer ye, it's a walkin' stick. Yew'll need it when we haed up along tha' loch, afters we can go to tha' auld brochs, if ye fancy a wee hike."

"They're still standing after all these years?"

"Aye, nae changed a bit frae wha' I'm told."

Ducky held out the fishing gear to the boy," We have been set a task by our Delma."

"I thought as much, she's a right able *one, she is."

"And she always has been," Ducky smiled, holding up the lunch basket.

"Bet it's cold mutton sandwiches."

"No doubt," Ducky said as he and Robbie packed everything in the car. Now he'd really look the part of the tourist, carrying the fishing poles.

The Aston Martin started up with a purr, making the boy grin.

"Och, this is sew kewl!"

Ducky turned the car, heading down the drive. "All right Robbie, where to first?"

"Hae about the brochs?" Robbie smiled.

"Excellent idea my lad."

"Do yew remember tha' way Dr. Mallard?"

"Like it was yesterday, the brochs of Dun Telve and Dun Troddan are just south and Robbie, please call me Ducky."

"Aye. Hew'd ye get tha' nickname?"

"It was rather unfortunate, and a long story for another time but suffice to say I received that nom de guerre during the London blitz."

"Nom de guerre? A dinnieken that."

Ducky chuckled, reminding himself that a French colloquialism would be something that a Highland lad might not be familiar with, nor need. "It's sort of a nickname."

"Och, I rade about tha' blitz in skewl. Does it hae anathing tew dew with yer last name...tha's nae a Scots name."

"Very astute of you my boy. Mallard is English, my late father was from London, though he was raised in Scotland. I was born here, and a Scotsman is what I consider myself."

"Oh 'tis a brea story..._Ducky._" The young lad smiled.

Ducky did indeed remember the way to the broch as he said, 'like it was yesterday. He pulled up the car, putting the top up as the skies looked a wee bit threatening, and pulled out the walking stick Robbie had whittled for him. Together they walked up to the ancient structures.

"Did you know Robbie that a broch is an Iron Age drystone structure of a type found only in Scotland... it is theorized they were used as defensive military posts by some historians, while other hypothesize they were farmhouses. Most stand alone, yet there are some examples of brochs surrounded by clusters of smaller dwellings such as ours in Glenelg. There is controversy about whether or not brochs had roofs...The name broch or 'burgs', after Old Norse _borg_, with the same meaning of fort. Place names in Scandinavian Scotland such as Burgawater and Burgan show that Old Norse. _borg_ is the older word used for these structures in the north. Brochs were often referred to as 'duns' in the west as they are in Ireland. Two thousand years ago in Glenelg the woods were not friendly places with wild animals roaming about. The hills and seas held threat of invasion, And the weather cruel in winter.

Ducky pointed to the towers as he strolled around them using his walking stick. "They were built using two concentric walls which housed stairs leading to living and sleeping areas, the ground floor center would have possibly used for animals to be housed."

Ducky caught out of the corner of his eye that he seemed to be losing Robbie's attention. "Oh dear me, I'm rambling again. I have a tendency to do that with my job, as you see dear boy...no one answers back."

"Nae, t'was interesting, I never paid attention in skewl much when they talked about these...we used ta hide in the brochs when we would play hewkie...but I was actually just lookin' at the sky."

At that moment it began to rain, and not long after it started turning into a light snow, quickly covering the ground around the the brochs.

"Come on Ducky, there's a bothy we can get ta until it lets up a wee bit," Robbie called, pointing to a shepherds hut that was not far off.

They put a good leg under it, and when the weather lightened up, they returned to the car. Ducky reached for his cell phone and that was when Robbie told him there was no service in Glenelg, but there was in Arnisdale, ten miles away where they were headed next.

"Hmm, well not a problem. I can call when we get to Ewan and Argyle's...they are expecting us after all, and given the weather, I don't think we'll be getting much fishing done."

Ducky started up the Aston Martin, letting it idle with a soft purr before turning the car to head farther south to the Abercrombie farm.


	14. Chapter 14

The drive southwest on the only road leading to Arnisdale was uneventful, though from time to time the snow continued to fall again. It made for a lovely landscape, letting Ducky's thoughts of Christmas' past, spent with his family in Glenelg. Sadly, though, it was the past and would never be again. He would be back in the states by the time the holiday arrived and wondered what he would do this year. With mother gone, his lady friend gone, the thoughts of spending the holiday alone was not looking very attractive.

The previous year, he tried to get his NCIS family to spend the holiday with him as most of them were disconnected from their own families.

Abigail spent most of her time with Sister Rosita at the convent, Anthony if he was lucky enough to have a date of some sort would disappear, Timothy had only his grandmother and she, God bless her, was off travelling around the world. She'd tried to get him to talk with his father but that wasn't going well. Jimmy Palmer had Breena...and Jethro, well he had finally reconnected with his father Jackson and would most likely go to Stillwater this year. No, Christmas probably wouldn't be this year.

At last Ducky pulled up the car in front of the simple home, shared by brothers Arglye and Ewan Abercrombie, and he and Robbie stepped out.

The sounds of the farm filled the air, with the mooing of cows, the bleating of sheep not far away. There were a few stray 'Dumpy' chickens scratching about, clucking and fluttering as he and the boy walked toward the front door.

The door to the wee house opened and out stepped Arglye dressed in a traditional utility kilt, boots and a down jacket. He was as Ducky remembered him, a bit off the wall as was his brother. It was their father who used to sit at the dinner table and insist that he was naked...or was that Fidelma's father?Ducky suddenly went blank, which was unlike him, but the fact didn't matter as his two cousins were nearly mad at hatters.

"Weel if it t'sn't he salf!" Argyle called out. "Ewy, luke hew's here."

"Who is it Argyle? I dinnae ken hew i 'tis." Ewan stepped beside him.

"It's cousin Donald, are ye daft boy?"

Ducky went into a fit of laughter, as it was like watching Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum."

"Hae they always been like this?" Robbie whispered.

"Aye, they have at that," Ducky continued laughing.

Greetings and great hugs were given as Ducky and Robbie were invited in. The house was not what they expected, with a few chickens running wild inside, cats and dog or two. Ducky just shook his head at his cousins eccentricities.

They sat at the kitchen table as the lads pulled out glasses and a bottle of single malt, and the toasting and drinking in earnest began.

Robbie asked if he could try some.

"How auld ar ye**?**" Argyle asked.

"Near sixteen," the lad answered.

"Och, auld enough."

Ducky was feeling rather lax and said yes to the lad having a wee dram. Something he was to regret the next day...

Before they knew it the sun had gone down, and it was too late to be driving back to Glenelg at night as the roads were a bit treacherous, but even more so with the snow and ice, and of course the drink.

Ducky was feeling no pain when he remembered to call Fidelma, telling her they had failed in their mission to catch fish and were now most likely stuck for the night at Argyle and Ewan's farm.

"I figured as much. I haed a feeling yewd be wee ahin-haun (late)," she laughed over the telephone, "I had a meal planned in case yer catch was nae gewd. Ye missed a fine mutton tonight. And yew'll be pleased ta know that we've been invited to Skye by her ladyship for a Robert Burns evenin' and ceilidh at the Laird's estate."

"A Robbie Burns night, with haggis?" Ducky almost hiccupped.

"Aye the full ceremony and there'll be a grand dance after, a full ceilidh."

Ducky's thoughts were focused on the haggis, recalling it fondly. There's been a few times back in Virginia that he had a fine haggis, and now was looking forward to having it again, and properly prepared of completely bypassed the fact that an invitation to a Lairds manor was not to be taken lightly, and somehow neglected to as his cousin any further questions once he's heard the word haggis.

He also neglected to look at the missed message on his cell phone from Jethro that was left a day ago. The message wouldn't have shown up while in Glenelg, since there was no cell service. And arriving in Arnsidale, a barely existing town, there was cell service available.

But at this point Ducky, his cousins and Robbie had enjoyed way too much of the 'schtuff'.

Ewan made up the spare bed for his cousin, and set the couch up for young Robbie to sleep on. The boy however, never made it there on his own and passed out at the kitchen table. Argyle and Ewan carried the lad to the sofa and deposited him there unceremoniously.

Ducky had already wobbled to the bedroom, half undressed himself before he curled up under the blankets and fell asleep instantly.

The next morning found Donald Mallard hung over, while the Abercrombie brothers were up and about at dawn, tending to their stock and chores as if nothing had happened. Ducky wandered down the hall, found the bathroom and washed up, searching the medicine cabinet for some aspirin, without success.

After abandoning his search, he found Robbie, still passed out on the sofa, looking like he'd been tossed there like a rag doll.

"Fidelma is going to have my head for this," Ducky chided himself for his irresponsibility with the boy.

Ewan came bounding through the front door like a bull in a china shop.

"Weeel, abut time yew woke. Half tha day is gone, this is a fairm mind ye."

"Accustomed as you are to early risings, I am not...especially when combined with copious amounts of single malt. Ewan, do you perchance, please, have some aspirin?"

"Aye." He went to the kitchen, reaching into the fridge of all places."

"Ah yes, aspirin in the refrigerator, I should have known," Ducky mumbled sarcastically as he was handed the bottle, noting the expiration date had passed by several months. "No matter." He dry swallowed two tablets, then went to check on Robbie.

He tapped the boy lightly on the shoulder. "Robbie, wake up. Are you all right?"

The boy's eyes opened in a shot, he looked at Ducky as he turned the oddest shade of green, then dashed off and heading out the front door.

"Oh dear," Ducky sighed. He followed the boy, and helped hold his head as he wretched.

"Go ahead, get rid of it lad, that's the best thing for you," he spoke softly.

Argyle offered to make them breakfast, but the thought greasy bangers and puddings even made Ducky's stomach turn.

He decided it was time to return to Fidelma's, and Robbie was carefully loaded into the Aston Martin, with a few plastic trash bags in hand.

"I promise I wen't get sick in yer carr Ducky," the boy mumbled.

"Don't make promises you may not be able to keep. We can pull over if you feel the need to," he tried reassuring the lad.

Several stops later, with Robbie having been sick again, they finally reached Glenelg and pulled up in front of Fidelma's house.

She walked outside, with her white apron blowing in the chilly wind, and once she looked at Robbie, the air temperature, Ducky noticed, seemed to drop even more.


	15. Chapter 15

"Hey boss, anything happening with the MacDonald case? Did you get hold of the Duckster?" Tony asked, trying to look busy at his desk.

Gibbs had just walked into the squad room, carrying his morning Joe, and took a long sip from it before he even acknowledged he was being spoken to.

"No Di Nozzo on both counts," he finally said, sitting down at his desk. He pulled his Sig and holster from the waistband of his trousers, placing in the desk draw, his usual habit.

Tony walked over to Gibbs' desk, seemingly concerned. "It's not like Ducky not to return your call. Does your gut tell you something's wrong?"

"No." There was an underlying tone of annoyance in his voice. "Don't you have any work to do? Because if you don't I can always send to down do inventory in the evidence locker."

"No, I mean yes, boss I have plenty of stuff to do," Tony hurried back to his desk, not seeing Gibbs break into a smile as he shook his head.

Mc Gee suddenly appeared, walking quickly past to his desk, placing his tall cup of mocha latte with a double shot of espresso on his desk.

"Mc Gee, making a new time schedule for yourself?" Gibbs mumbled.

The fear could be heard in Tim's voice. "No boss, sorry the line was extra-long to get coffee at the..."

"Well next time get your coffee from the vendor outside headquarters and you won't be late."

"But they don't serve latte..."Mc Gee caught himself on that thought. " Ugh, yes boss. I'll remember that."

In the meantime Tony was pointing at Tim, laughing silently while he hid his face behind a folder.

"What is this kindergarten?" Gibbs blurted out, "Di Nozzo, wipe that smile off that face of yours before you make me regret something."

"Yeah, boss, sorry." Tony, shrugged his shoulders, mouthing "How did he know?" To Mc Gee.

"That's because you're an idiot," Tim said, not even looking in Tony's direction. He suddenly realized Gibbs was staring at him. "I meant Tony boss."

Jethro almost broke a smile as he shook his head.

Tony gestured at Tim, holding his fingers like they were claws, mouthing "Meeee-ow," but he was ignored.

"Mc Gee, you have Ducky's cell number on file, I want you to keep trying to contact him." Gibbs called across to him.

Tim was in mid swallow from his coffee cup and coughed, trying not to choke as he rushed to answer. "Right on it."

There was something in Gibbs' demeanor, he was more short-tempered than usual and that made Tim suspect he was worried about Ducky, but why, he had no idea...unless it had something to do with the MacDonald case...

.

Ziva David walked into the lab, greeting her good morning to Abby, though she perceived instantly that she was preoccupied.

"I can't believe this! I've run this test again and again, and I've come up with a different result every time. It just can't be?"

"What's wrong Abby?"

She spun on her platform boots, with her short pleated plaid skirt twirling out with her..

"I found microscopic particulates on the bullets from the Mc Donald case, but I can't narrow it down to what they are."

"You have no idea?"

"Well they could be soil, but then again they're coming up crystalline based," she scrunched up her face, not wanting to guess. "It almost looks like diamond dust. Weird huh? I did just have a result that says it's inorganic. Ooooh, I'm not sure ... I'm worried if Major Mass Spec is sick." She lovingly rubbed the machine with her hand. "That's all right poor baby, I didn't mean anything by it. You're gonna do it right for me now aren't you?" She put another sample in the machine and sent it to work.

"Abby, if it is not giving you consistent answers, then will the results not be useless."

She took a determined stance with her hands on her hips. "I have an unknown substance and "I'm going to keep running more tests until I get a definitive answer, even if it takes all night." She didn't look happy at that prospect.

.

Fidelma , Ducky and Robbie made their preparations for the trip over to Skye. She picked out her best dress... a beautiful blue and grey floral print and a pair of shoes comfortable for dancing shoes. It wasn't about making a fashion statement, it was about countless hours of dancing at the ceilidh, something she was very much looking forward to. She made sure, however, that young Robbie was scrubbed clean, his hair trimmed and combed back and ensured he was was outfitted in a proper white shirt, and black tie and pants.

A problem arose with Ducky's attire. She was insisting that he wear a kilt to the festivities, and offered the one belonging to her late brother, with all the required trimmings but Ducky would have none of it.

"Delma, I am not exposing my skinny white legs for the world to see, they simply do not look like they belong to a man of my...girth." He patted his belly. After much arguing back and forth Fidelma quietly surrendered to her cousins wishes.

Ducky would wear a pair of grey trousers, his navy blue Edinburgh University jacket with the school emblem emblazoned on the breast pocket, a white shirt and a tie of green blue and white tartan of the Abercrombies. There was no tartan for the Mallard name as sadly the family was English origin, though having been born and bred in Scotland as was his father, Ducky considered himself a Scotsman through and through.

He finally agreed to two concession, the first, since he was fond of wearing hats, didn't bother him; he would wear a _Tam O'Shanter _otherwise known a tam, the 19th century nickname for the traditional Scottish bonnet worn by men and named after Tam o' Shanter, the eponymous hero of the poem by Robert Burns. That he deemed quite proper, since they were going to a Robert Burns night.

The second was a waistcoat in the Abercrombie family tartan...it had belonged to Delma's older brother who'd passed of influenza many years ago, and she had lovingly kept the vest and the matching kilt in storage. There was, however, a very faint odor of mothballs. Ducky voiced his concern about that to her.

"Och, dinna let it bother ya. Dew yew not think half the men there dinna keep their kits in storage? Tis' not like they wear them everyday. Trust me, yew'll be fine Donald Mallard."

"Just to be on the safe side, Ducky sprinkled on some extra cologne to mask the smell.

He looked at the completed ensemble in the mirror , straightening the plain blue bonnet on his head with a smile. It matched nicely with the green, blue and white tartan of Fidlema's family. "That's more like it," He concluded, giving his stomach a pat.

The time came to leave and the three of them climbed into the Aston Marton, heading up the coast to the to the Skye Bridge, a road bridge over Loch Alsh, connecting mainland Highland with the Isle of Skye. One pillar of the bridge stood on the island of Eilean Bàn, meaning white island. It was a six acre island off the coast of the mainland between Kyle of Lochalsh and the Isle of Skye. The island supported a column of the Skye Bridge, which crossed the mouth of Loch Alsh from the mainland to Skye.

Kyleakin Lighthouse was situated at the south-western end of Eilean Bàn. Built in 1857, it was to a pair of keepers' houses. The lighthouse was automated and converted to use acetylene gas in 1960. Following the start of construction of the Skye Bridge, the lighthouse was decommissioned in 1993. It became Category B listed building. A listed building, in the United Kingdom, was a structure that was on the Statutory List of Buildings of Special Architectural or Historic Interest. Ducky recalled visiting the lighthouse many times long ago. It was a place of solitude, where one could listen to mother nature and your own thoughts and it became a retreat for him when he was feeling down.

The shortest crossing between the mainland and the island was around 500 metres at the sound between the villages of Kyle of Lochalsh on the mainland and Kyleakin on the island's east coast has traditionally been the most common route. A ferry operated services from around 1600, run by private operators and latterly by Caledonian MacBrayne.

The last time Ducky had been across to Skye there had been no bridge but the increased prosperity in the islands, and a healthy summertime tourist traffic, led to ever-increasing volumes of traffic queueing for the ferries, and brought renewed calls for the construction of a road bridge. In 1995 the ferry service across the sound ceased, leaving the bridge and the Mallaig-Armadale ferry as the only year-round connections to the mainland. Given the weather, the idea of a ferry ride across to Skye was not a pleasant prospect, and the Skye bridge made for a much more relaxed crossing, as this time of year the water was choppier than usual.

The drive to the estate was a scenic and pleasant one and finally they drove up the long driveway to a magnificent Scottish manor. A valet parked the car, and they were shown inside by a butler.

The interior of the main foyer was full of portraits, and rich tapestries, and Persian carpets on the floor, there was even the requisite suit of armor standing watch to the side. They surrendered their coat to yet another butler and were seen to the main ballroom where a fair-sized crowd were already gathered. Having handed the man their invitations, he announced their arrival.

"New drinking,' she warned Robbie, as someone stopped with a tray, offering them some libation.

"New worries Delma, I'haeve lert my lesson," Robbie swore.

Ducky shook his head, thinking he might avoid the hair of the dog himself...at least for a bit.

He was looking forward very much to the haggis and the ceremony that surrounded it.


	16. Chapter 16

It was there across the room Ducky spotted her. He couldn't believe it at first, but after cleaning his eyeglasses and looking again, he knew it was indeed her...Aileen Abernathy. She was dressed in a hostess tartan long kilted skirt, a billowing long-sleeved white blouse and matching tartan sash, and she wore a wee bonnet with a feather on her head.

He made his way through the crowd, balancing his glass of scotch on the rocks as he weaved among them.

"Aileen?" He called out her name, stopping in front of her, still incredulous that it was her.

The blond womans eyes opened wide, staring at him for a moment, but seconds later, she broke into a broad smile. "Donald...Ducky Mallard?"

"Yes it's me Aileen." He smiled at her offering her his hand. She took it and gave it a squeeze, but unexpectedly she stepped forward, giving him a hug.

"I can't believe it Ducky, after all these years...what are you doing here? The last I'd heard from Stinky was that you were living in America."

That suddenly pleased him to no end, thinking that she was keeping track of him after all these years, but felt saddened as well that he never knew.

"I'm here on holiday...good Lord Aileen I must say the years have been kind to you. You're as beautiful as I remember you, perhaps more so."

"Oh still the sweet talker," she laughed softly.

"And may I be so bold as to ask what brings you to Skye?"

She leaned over, whispering in his ear. "Donald, do you not see that I am wearing the Donnacha-Skye tartan?"

"Oh yes, how inattentive of me. I didn't know you were related to the Donnacha-Skye clan."

"Only by marriage..."

For some reason that took him off guard, and he hesitated, wondering why that would bother him. "Ah, so you're married then."

"Was, my husband the Laird has passed on, but I have a fine son, named Michael who'll be Laird after him, but in the meantime, this is all mine to take care of until such time my son is ready. You still didn't answer my question, how is it you're here?"

"You sent an invitation to Fidelma Weir and family, and I'm family as she is my cousin. Her maiden name was Abercrombie and her mother was my mother's sister."

"Aye that makes sense now. I never knew you had relations in Glenelg. Oh 'tis really wonderful to see you again Donald," Aileen was positively glowing as she smiled at him. "You must tell me what you've been up to all these years?

"Well your Ladyship, I've been many places and done many things, but at the moment I am a medical examiner at..."

"Please, we're old friends still aren't we. Call me Aileen? I used to love when you'd whisper my name, did yew know that?"

Ducky swallowed his embarrassment, he'd never realized that.

A butler approached, interrupting their conversation and telling her Ladyship that it was time for the start of the evening's festivities.

Aileen smiled, asking if Ducky would escort her to the dining room where the ceremony would begin.

He smiled, offering her his arm "I would be honored Aileen."

Once inside, she as the hostess welcomed everyone to the supper, honoring Robert Burns and thereby declared the event open.

All of the guests were seated at tables scattered about the room, and the _Selkirk Grace_ was said. It was a well-known thanksgiving said before meals, using the Scots language. Although attributed to Burns, the Selkirk Grace was already known in the 17th century, as the "Galloway Grace" or the "Covenanters' Grace". It came to be called the Selkirk Grace because Burns was said to have delivered it at a dinner given by the Earl of Selkirk.

"_Tha biadh aig cuid, 's gun aca càil; acras aig cuid,'s gun aca biadh, ach againne tha biadh is slàint',_

_moladh mar sin a bhith don Triath_ Some hae meat and canna eat, And some wad eat that want it;_

_But we hae meat, and we can eat, And sae let the Lord be thankit."_

The supper began with the soup course of Cock-a-Leekie, a dish of leeks and chicken stock, made from the original recipe that added prunes during cooking. The reason for the addition of prunes dated back to times when only boiling fowls were available and prunes were added to increase the nutritional value of the broth. While it was called "Scotland's National Soup," it likely originated as a chicken and onion soup in France, yet by the 16th century, it had made its way to Scotland, where the onions were replaced with leeks

Everyone stood as the main course was brought in, a haggis on a large platter, carried by the cook, as a piper played the war pipes, leading the way to the hostess' table, where the haggis was set down. Her Ladyship stood, raising her voice, singing a beautiful rendition of 'A Man's a Man For a' That',

When she was finished, she leaned over towards Ducky, whispering to him. "Do you recall the words to the "Address to a Haggis?"

"Indeed I do," he smiled.

"Would you recite it for us?"

He hesitated for a second, composing himself as this was a bit of an honor. "I can only do it in English, if that's all right with you?"

"Of course it is," she encouraged him with a lovely smile.

Ducky took a deep breath, composing himself as he closed his eyes to recall the words written by Robert Burns. It was a rather lengthy piece

"Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o' the puddin'-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak yer place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy o' a grace

As lang's my airm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o need,

While thro your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dicht,

An cut you up wi ready slicht,

Trenching your gushing entrails bricht,

Like onie ditch;

And then, Oh what a glorious sicht,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:

Deil tak the hindmaist, on they drive,

Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

'Bethankit' hums.

Is there that ower his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi perfect scunner,

Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him ower his trash,

As feckless as a wither'd rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit:

Thro bloody flood or field to dash,

Oh how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his wallie nieve a blade,

He'll make it whissle;

An legs an arms, an heads will sned,

Like taps o thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies:

But, if Ye wish her grateful prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!"

.

He opened his eyes when he received a rousing round of applause from the guests, and blushing a bit as he seated himself.

Robbie, who was seated beside him commented, " Aye that was was magic Ducky."

"Thank you. I must admit I was a bit nervous I'd forget a line or two, it's been a long time since I've recited it, much less in public."

"Hear hear," another of the guests called out, standing and offering a toast of Scotch whisky to the haggis as was the custom once the poem had ended.

The cook sliced the haggis open with a razor sharp Claymore, a traditional Scottish sword, along with several others haggis' that were brought out from the kitchen after the ceremony.

Accompanying the dish was a serving of _tatties_, otherwise known as mashed potatoes, and _neeps_mashed turnips_. This was followed by a cheese course, with a dessert course of _cranachan_ and _Tipsy Laird, a _whisky trifle, followed by oatcakes and all washed down with the water of life, _uisge beatha._.. Scotch _whisky. _This was followed by more speeches and poetry.

Aileen being the hostess, said a few words thanking the speakers and commented on some of the points raised about the life of Robert Burns. At which point everyone drank a toast to the poet laureate of Scotland.

Next, following protocol, a short speech was given by a male guest in thanks to the women who had prepared the meal, That was no longer the case, but a speech was still offered, more wide ranging, and generally covering the speaker's view on women. It was amusing and not offensive, particularly keeping in mind that it would be followed by a reply from the "lassies" concerned.

The men raised their glasses in a toast to the women's health.

Thereafter came the toast to the 'laddies' with a female guest standing and giving her views on men and replying to some of the points raised by the previous speaker. Like the men's speech it was amusing and kept all in good fun.

Ducky was having a marvelous time with Delma, and Robbie seated with him, but most of all, he was enjoying his reunion with Aileen Abernathy most of all. Yet across the table from them sat a man who seemed to be rather put out as he looked at her Ladyship. Apparently it was her brother-in-law Callum Donnacha. He had rather hawkish, pinched features, and in no way resembled the man in the contemporary portrait over the mantle, one Ducky assumed was Aileen's late husband.

The festivities were interrupted when one of the butlers approached Aileen, and bending over, whispered into her ear.

"Beg pardon your Ladyship, but there is a call from the American Consulate in Edinburgh."

"Oh dear, really?" Aileen looked rather annoyed, "Can't it wait?" It would have been rather rude of her to leave in the middle of everything.

"I'm sorry your Ladyship, but the gentleman said it was quite urgent. It was about Young Master Michael."

Ducky watched as Aileen's face paled, having over heard the conversation.

"Would you like me to come with you Aileen?"

"Aye Ducky, that might be a good idea," she spoke nervously. She rose from her chair, announcing to her guests to be excused for a moment to tend to a pressing issue and reminded them they were all to be escorted in to the grand hall in a few minutes for the ceilidh.

Ducky touched her arm lightly as they stepped out across the hall to a private drawing-room. She picked up the telephone receiver, taking the message, and there was all Ducky could do to get to her before she fainted. He lifted her to a leather chair, checking her pulse while grabbing the receiver.

"Yes this is Dr. Donald Mallard, I am the Medical Examiner for NCIS in Virginia. Could you please repeat the message to me?"

"Yes Dr. Mallard. Mrs. Donnacha-Skye's son and fiancé were murdered five days ago outside of Woodbridge, Virginia. The fiancé is...was a naval officer a... Lieutenant Morin Mac Donald, so your NCIS is investigating the case."

He could hear papers shuffling in the background. "Yes, we received a call from an Agent Gibbs. Do you know him?"

"Yes I indeed do, thank you," Ducky said in shock as he returned the receiver to the cradle.


	17. Chapter 17

Ducky saw to Aileen, calling for a butler to bring smelling salts, a wet cloth for her head and a stiff drink of single malt.

As she came to her senses she began to cry, and sought solace in the strength of Ducky's arms.

"Och, my baby, my beautiful boy is gone. I can't believe it, " she sobbed.

"I am so sorry," he whispered; there was little else he could say to her at a moment like this.

"My co-workers at NCIS will...are investigating this, and I promise you Aileen they'll get the blaggard who did this." He suddenly reminded himself, "there you go Ducky, no one talks this way," but recalled Jethro had once said it was people who cared who spoke like that.

"You work for this NCIS?" She asked, "What is it?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Services. I work there in the capacity of Chief Medical Examiner, though my assistant Jimmy Palmer will have handled...the autopsies."

That word set her off crying again.

"Aileen, perhaps it would be best to cancel the festivities in light of what has happened?"

She took a deep calming breath. "Nae, let them have their ceilidh, they do so look forward to it every year. I will just send my regrets that I can't be there for the rest of the evening. Would you do that for me Donald, tell them I'm not feeling well. perhaps?"

"Of course I will," he raised her hand, kissing it and turned to the butler.

"Would you see to it her Ladyship is taken to her quarters. I think it best she go to bed. Have one of the maids bring her some chamomile tea if you have it.'

"Yes sir Dr. Mallard, I'll see to it right away.

Ducky leaned down to Aileen, whispering to her. "Don't worry, I am here for you as long as you need me. I'll not abandon you again."

A positive glimmer filled her red eyes as she looked at him. "Thank you Donald."

Ducky headed to the grand ballroom, stepping up to the platform where the musicians were playing a rousing tune for, of all things, a dance called 'The Virginia Reel," a folk dance dating from the 17th century. As well as being a Scottish country dance it was generally considered to be an English one, made popular in America from the mid to late 1800's. As soon as the musicians finished, he raised his hands to draw everyone's attention.

"I beg your pardon for interrupting the ceilidh, but her Ladyship has asked me to tell you she is not feeling well and will not be attending the rest of the festivities this evening. She asks that you please enjoy yourselves in her absence. Thank you, and carry on."

Robbie and Fidelma both approached Ducky from the crowd as soon as he stepped from the small stage.

"Och, Ducky whas' wrong with her Ladyship?" Delma asked.

"Nothing serious, just a fainting spell. I'm going to see to her now, as I am after all, a doctor."

"Weel let us know if yew need any heelp," Robbie chimed in.

Ducky retreated outside for a small medical bag he always carried for emergencies, though it just had some basics, a stethoscope, epinephrine, smelling salts, supplies for minor cuts and such.

He was shown to Aileen's door and gently rapped on it, and was met by the Lady's maid.

"Och come in Doctor, she's steel out of sorts...I cannae believe wha' happened to tha' young..."

"Yes, it it quite devastating," Ducky cut her off. "You may go now, I'll call you if her Ladyship needs your attendance. Mmm, what is your name my dear?"

"It's Caitrìona sir."

"Well then thank you Caitrìona, that's a lovely old name. If you would be so kind as to ask the steward to see to the guests in her Ladyship's absence. And please, keep it to the staff as to what happened with her Ladyships son. We wouldn't want the guests to invade her privacy at the moment, would we?"

"Aye sir, I'll make sure the rest of the staff knows." She curtsied and blushed just a bit, as guests never took the time to ask her name, much less offer her a compliment. In a great manor house, the staff were to be seen and not heard, with the exception of the steward and head butler who was in charge of the general staff.

Once alone with Aileen, Ducky turned his attention to her, checking her pulse and pupillary response, and listening to her heart with his stethoscope, without saying a word.

He finally spoke once his brief examination was finished. "Everything checks out fine Aileen. How are you feeling?"

"Not light headed if that's what you mean. Donald, I can't believe my boy is dead..." though grief-stricken, her voice was surprisingly calm. Her eyes opened wide, suddenly remembering her guests."

"Donald...the ceilidh."

"Everything is fine, I made the announcement that you're not well and asked that your steward see to the guests, though I'm sure your head butler is doing a fine job at that."

He squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Would you like me to give you something to sleep?"

"No, just sit with me please? It is very comforting to know that you're here. You always were a kind and thoughtful man in spite of …" she cut herself short.

" I can finish that for you... in spite of being a bit selfish and self-centered."

She actually laughed at that. "You're being a bit hard on yourself. I was going to say, in spite of having a one track mind."

"Now who's being kind," he smiled. "And I _was_ a selfish person back then, only looking to my wants and needs."

"Well that's in the past then isn't it, and nothing to dwell on now," she whispered, closing her eyes but still holding tightly onto his hand.

Ducky remained at her bedside not taking note of the time as he watched her sleep, remembering the times they had together. He suddenly realized that he still had feelings for her after all these years, and wondered if she was the soul-mate he let get away.

John Urquhart, the steward, knocked on the door and Ducky quietly bid him entry.

"Dr. Mallard, the ceilidh is over and the guests are leaving. I presumed you wished to stay to look after her Ladyship and have made sleeping arrangements for you as well as Mrs. Weir and young master Robbie."

"Thank you John, that was kind of you. Ducky looked at his watch, seeing that it was nearly midnight. Aileen seemed to be sleeping well enough, and he decided to go to bed himself.

Urquhart showed him to his room across the hall from Aileen. Rather thoughtful of the man to keep him close by in case her Ladyship needed attention.

Ducky admired the antique furnishings in his room and if wasn't for the tapestries, it would feel very much like his own bedroom back in Virginia. He expected to sleep in his skivvies, but found a nice set of silk pajamas, just the right size laid out for him on the bed with a note for him to leave anything he needed laundered in a small chest outside the door, as well as leaving his trousers and jacket to be pressed. After changing into his pajamas and depositing everything outside, he prepared to climb into bed, when there came a knock at the door.

It was Alastair, the head butler offering a tray of tea and some McViities digestive biscuits.

He thanked the man for his thoughtfulness and wished him a good night; both the tea and snack would settle him down nicely.

The next morning Ducky found himself awake and refreshed at eight o'clock. His clothing was waiting for him outside the door, and after showering and shaving with a razor left there in the bathroom he dressed himself.

It was no use trying to call NCIS headquarters as it was three in the morning back home, and he'd have to wait several hours until Jethro was there. He was usually the first one at his desk after getting his cup of coffee from his favorite local diner, as he would have nothing to do with these specialty coffee shops. The vendor outside of headquarters usually had an acceptably strong cup of Joe that suited Gibb's taste when he was running a bit late.

Yet Jethro's 'late' was still early by the standards kept by the rest of his team, with the exception of Ziva...

The first thing Ducky did was to check up on his patient, and he found Aileen up and dressed.

She smiled as he peeked his head around the door, greeting her.

"Ah, then I hadn't dreamt it Donald, you are still here."

"I told you I wouldn't abandon you this time, and a promise made is a promise kept. "A 'no' does not hide anything, but a 'yes' very easily becomes a deception."

"You haven't changed have you Donald, quoting Kierkegaard this early in the morning."

"I suppose not, but my quotations and anecdotes sadly fall upon deaf ears my dear. Oh, I'm so sorry Aileen, I shouldn't have brought that up."

She stood at her bedroom window, with the rays of the sun falling on her long blonde hair, allowing Ducky to detect just a hint of grey.

"No please, don't fret over that. My wee boy is gone, he's dead and I have to accept that." Her eyes welled with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

"Aileen you are a woman of great courage."

"I'm not that strong Donald." She stepped over to him, leaning against him as he automatically wrapped his arms around her. Ducky had the overwhelming urge to kiss her, but refrained from doing so, as it just wouldn't be proper. And it would have to be a two way street, with her wanting to be kissed. No it wasn't right, he told himself.

Together they went downstairs for breakfast, joining Delma and Robbie at the dining table.

Fidelma pulled Ducky aside. "Gettin' a might cozy with her Ladyship aren't yew new."

Ducky laughed softly. "That's right, you don't know. Aileen...her Ladyship and I attended Edinburgh Medical college together, let's say back then we were more than just 'friends.'

"Och only yew Donald, only yew," Delma cuffed him in the arm.

He took her to the side and told her of the death of Aileen's son, and companion as well as his offer to stay a few days to help her Ladyship's dealings with NCIS and it was decided after breakfast that Delma and Robbie would head back to Glenelg, driven by her ladyship's chauffeur. He would return with Dr. Mallards' suitcase and clothing.

Ducky made up his mind to call NCIS around 1 pm, that would be 8 am there, and he would get further details from Jethro; given his position, it was the most he could do for Aileen except be here for her as he had promised.

Once the goodbyes were made, Ducky and Aileen walked arm and arm out in the great garden behind the estate, wandering to a section that had fallen into disrepair. Little was said until they were startled by Aileen's brother-in-law, Callum Donnacha, who suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, from behind a hillock where one of the old cisterns was half crumbled and hidden by plant life.

In his hand was a revolver, and he was aiming it directly at them...


	18. Chapter 18

"Callum, are you out of your mind? Why do you have a gun?" Aileen gasped.

"Because you cow, you think you're gewing ta deprive me and my son our rights to this estate?" He barked at her. "Now move." He waved his gun, gesturing for them to move forward until he bade them stop near at the hillock, Callum pulled a large bush aside, above the decrepit cistern, revealing a hidden cave entrance.

"In ye go new." Callum growled.

"Listen my good man, there's no need for this. Have you no sense of decency, the woman just lost her son." Ducky protested.

"And yew, all cozy with her, talk about decency. I suppose yew have yer eyes on the estate as weel then, ye money grubber ye."

"Hardly." Ducky mumbled as he stepped into the damp cave, holding Aileen's hand.

"There's a torch for ye." Callum said, handing Ducky a flashlight. "New gaun ye."

"Where are we?" Aileen asked, "I never knew this cave to be here."

"There's a fair few that run under the estate," Callum said. "My brother and I used to play here as wee lads. And here is where we found the source of our wealth, and it's been kept secret all these years. And I aim ta keep it tha' way."

Ducky took that moment to charge the distracted man, giving him a good old-fashioned _Glasgow kiss,_ but the headbutt did little other than get Ducky pistol-whipped for his effort.

"Donald!" Aileen screamed as she rushed to his side, holding his head in her lap until he came to moments later.

"That was a stupid thing ta dew Doctor," Callum said. "Now on yer feet and get moving."

Aileen helped steady Ducky as he carefully rose, his head and neck throbbing as he regretted his foolhardiness, realizing he was just too old for that sort of thing.

Callum forced them to walk farther in through the tunnel until they reached a cavernous opening. Parts of the walls seemed to shimmer oddly from the light of the flashlights.

"Good Lord what is that?" Ducky asked.

"Diamonds ye numpty. Honest to goodness diamonds."

"Diamonds in Scotland? How can that be? Aileen asked.

Ducky chimed in."Aaah, I read a recent article in _The Independent,_ stating there is an on going hunt for diamonds based on the belief that, in Scotland, there are deposits of the same type found in the Australian diamond fields. Geophysicists have become increasingly interested in Scotland because its rock structure is quite similar to that found in Donegal, in the Irish Republic, where Cambridge Mineral Resources is poised to begin drilling for diamonds next year."

"Weel isn't that a bit clever of yew Doctor. My brother and I kept the existence of this diamond mine secret, and now with that glaikit nephew of mine poised ta take over...well, I could nae let him in on the family secret, as he would hae told the world."

"Oh my God?" Aileen burst out. "You! It was you who killed my son and that girl?" Aileen took a step towards him, her anger blinding her to the fact that he was armed.

Ducky grabbed her, pulling her behind him as Callum raise his pistol. "So you're going to murder us as well?"

"Och, yer being here is rather fortuitous. An auld lover returns and in a moment of despondency yew and her Ladyship toss yourselves off the cliff ta be drowned in the sea. My son and I take over the estate and not another shot need be fired."

He turned his head slightly, calling out into the cave.

"Come out gowk! Boy, yew can show yerself new."

"Aye Da, I'm here but am nae a fool, so stop calling me that," Calllum Donnacha Jr. answered as he stepped from the shadows.

The young man looked worn and bedraggled, staring at his aunt and Ducky.

"Please Da, new more killing?"

"Whist, boy. What's done is done. And there's more ta be done. New stop acting the bairn."

Callum senior, turned his attention back to Aileen and Ducky. " The boy had nae the stomach for what needed to be done. I was shocked that he managed to kill Michael, and the American Lieutenant as weel. Though I dew regret her being caught up in this."

The horrified look Aileen gave her young nephew was too much for him to bear.

"I'm sorry Aunt Aileen, Da made me dew it. I'm soooo sorry, " the boy wailed, bursting into tears.

"Shut yer geggy Junior! " Callum barked at his son. "Gaun yersel wee man and tie them up and weel take 'em ta tha' cliffs and end this thing once and for all."

The boy staggered forward with the lengths of rope his father had tossed him, and still sniffling, he tied Aileen and Ducky's hands behind their backs.

Once bound, they were led onward through another tunnel until the sound of crashing waves could be heard, sounding at first like rolling thunder.

The tunnel took them to an opening in the cliff, and there Callum told his son to undo their bindings.

"You won't get away with this," Ducky snarled, though deep down he feared Callum Donnacha was going to do just that.

"Aye Dr. Mallard but I weel. Now walk to the edge the tew of yew, and don't make it hard on yer selves."

"A moment please," Ducky barked, "At least have the decency to give us a moment to say goodbye to each other? "

"Gaun then!" Callum gave in.

Ducky took Aileen by the hands, looking into her eyes. "I'm so sorry for all the pain I ever caused you. Can you forgive me after all these years?"

Aileen's eyes welled up with tears. "Oh Ducky, that's long in the past. All I have are loving memories of you. I'm so sorry you were dragged into this, and now you'll lose your life because of me. She took his face in her hands and leaned in, kissing him.

Ducky wrapped his arms around her, responding to her wholeheartedly. "If I must die, then I'm glad it's with you. Perhaps we can make up for some things in the afterlife."

"All right enough of yer drabble, now step to the edge." Callum barked at them.

Aileen and Ducky clasped hands as they did as they were told, looking at each other one last time as they faced the darkness of the water pounding against the rocks below them.

Callum stepped forward to push them, while his son cowered nearby. A shot suddenly rang out, and Junior watched as his father toppled forward, falling over the edge of the cliff and disappearing from sight.

"Don't move Donnacha," a familiar voice ordered.

Ducky pulled Aileen away from the edge, calling out a name. "Jethro!"

"Hiya Duck," he cocked his head, giving his friend that shy smile of his.

"How in heaven's name did you find us?" Ducky asked.

"I had just gotten to the house and followed you and her Ladyship outside, when I saw the fellow draw a gun on you. You were in my line of fire so I couldn't chance getting off a shot... and besides you know the eyes just aren't what they used to be."

"Well either way," Ducky sighed," you couldn't have shown up at a better time."

After Callum Junior was handcuffed, introductions were made between Aileen and Gibbs, and together the three of them, along with Callum in tow, returned to the manor house.

Scotland Yard was notified and they arrived late in the evening, taking Callum Donnacha into custody. Marine Police were already scouring the shore for Donnacha Sr. but had no success as of yet finding the body. Extradition arrangements back to the United States would be made for the son to stand trial for the murder of his cousin Michael and Lieutenant Morin Mac Donald. Given a member of the American military was allegedly one of his victims, Donnacha's prosecution at home was quickly waived. It was decided to let the Yanks have him, as the evidence showed he was clearly guilty.

After the prisoner was taken into custody, Jethro left to catch a red-eye back home, leaving his friend to finish up his vacation and settle what other matters he needed to.

.

Ducky sidled up to Aileen on a bench in the garden. He'd spent the last few days of his holiday helping her with the funeral arrangements for her son, offering her comfort and in general the two spent some time reacquainting themselves with each other. She'd been through a terrible trauma this past week with the loss of her son, and the insanity of her brother-in-law and nephew and appreciated Mallard's presence.

He watched as she shivered a bit and offered her his jacket.

"May I?"

She nodded, permitting him to drape it carefully over her shoulders.

"Better?"

"Aye thanks Donald." She sighed, as her tears were all cried out at this point. "If your friend Agent Gibbs hadn't been here, we surely would have died. Och, that lovers leap scenario certainly fit into Callum's plans nicely didn't it?"

"Yes, it was most lucky that Jethro showed up, he has a way of doing that...I recall once we were in France... well, perhaps that's a story for another time." Ducky paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. " What are the odds, when you think of it, NCIS investigating the mur...case, and me being here. As well as it being you? I think somehow the stars came into alignment."

Neither of them brought up that kiss between them when they both thought they were going to die.

Aileen laid her head against her shoulder, and Ducky reached his arm around to comfort her.

"There's something I'd like to tell you, if you don't mind?" He whispered.

"That's fine, say what you wish."

"I know you said it was all in the past, but those years long ago at University, I was such a cad to you. You wanted more and I was too selfish to give of myself to you. I had the mind of an idealist, off to save the world. Now that I've gotten older, I've realized there were some very big mistakes that I made in my life and leaving you was one of them. I'm so sorry I hurt you Aileen, and I still seek your forgiveness of an old fool."

"No, you were focused on your career and saving the world, and I wanted a family. There was nothing wrong with either of those dreams."

Ducky exhaled deeply, "It seems things have come full circle for me, I've had a very successful career, and now I regret not marrying and having a family."

She looked up into Ducky's blue eyes, still the same after all these years and suddenly she kissed him on the lips. It was a long, passionate one, and Ducky had no problem responding to it. This time it was a different kiss, and not the parting one they gave each other at the edge of the cliff.

When Ducky withdrew, he smiled at her. "I presume that is a yes?"

"Aye, I forgive you Donald Mallard. I was hard-hearted too back then, and I never gave you a chance to talk to me again. Perhaps if I did, things might have turned out differently."

"One never knows," he smiled, leaning in and kissing her passionately this time. "Do you suppose we could someday try to pick up where we left off?"

"Aye," she smiled, thinking his kisses had not changed a bit. "That's if you're not interested in me for my money and land," she teased.

"Dearest, you have no worries there as they use the phrase back in the States, that would describe my situation... "I'm filthy rich," so there would never be designs on what's yours...only on you." The heaviness that had weighed on his heart suddenly lifted as he admitted that to her.

"That would work for me Donald Mallard," she smiled at him, stroking his face with her hand.

"Wow," was the only word he could muster...

.

Jettro Gibbs arrived late at the squad room, something that never happened, leaving Tony, Ziva and Tim staring at him. Finally Tony broke the silence.

"Everything okay Boss?"

"Everything's fine Di Nozzo, can't a guy oversleep for once in his life." He said, taking long sip from his coffee and placing his Sig in his desk drawer.

"Yeah sure, no prob Boss." Tony buried his face, knowing that was a lie as Leroy Jethro Gibbs hardly slept at all. He figured the man had pure caffeine for blood.

On the stairs above them Director Vance appeared, his eyes focused directly on Jethro. "Gibbs, my office now." He disappeared from sight.

Gibbs rose from his desk without a word, heading straight to the stairs and up to the Directors office.

"Something's going on,"Tony said, once Gibbs was out of earshot.

"I agree, that man is never late," Ziva added.

"And he doesn't sleep," Tim joined in.

The three of them looked at each other, with nothing to go on as to second guess Gibbs, they returned to their computer work, typing furiously away on the keyboards.

.

Gibbs entered the office as usual, without knocking and stepped in front of Vance's desk. Leon was sitting down, holding a file in his hands.

"I just received a notification through channels that our suspect in the McDonald-Donnacha case was apprehended...by you in Scotland. Am I reading this right?"

"Yep, that's pretty much it Leon."

"It also says Callum Donnacha Sr. was killed by you. Would you care to enlighten me on this?" There was tension in his voice, but not much more than usual.

" I had a feeling Ducky was in trouble, so I went to Scotland, and tracked him down to an estate on the Isle of Skye. He and the late Laird's wife...and Donnahca's sister-in-law, were about to be pushed off a cliff by him and I needed to, ugh... intervene, sort of. It was Donnacha's son who actually committed the murders here. Some plan between the father and son to kill anyone in their way from taking possession of the Donnacha-Skye estate along with... a diamond mine beneath it. That was the main motive...the diamonds. Donnacha Jr. will be extradited to stand trial for the double homicide; he confessed so it'll be open and shut."

"Really? Now that's intrigue for you. Ducky's all right?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He's just wrapping up some personal business and he'll be back Stateside in a few days."

"That it Leon?"

Vance put the folder down, closing it with a deliberateness. "For now...Gibbs do me a favor, next time, keep me in the loop when your gut makes to go off like this?"

"Will do Leon," Gibbs smiled as he left the office...

.

The End... or a beginning perhaps for Ducky.


End file.
